


Empty Black Cells

by DragonLdy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, Past Abuse, Shakespearean Plays-referenced, Violent start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 07:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 37,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8319706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonLdy/pseuds/DragonLdy
Summary: What would Joffrey have done if some well wisher had helped Ned Stark escape but left Sansa behind?Sansa is aged up to seventeen and Sandor is twenty nine, some of the inspiration for this came from The Three Musketeers and other works by Dumas as well as Les Miserables by Victor Hugo because they wrote about what happens in a city and a country gripped by revolution. GRRM doesn't really address it but l think it's important to remember that when France rose up against their King it was a very similar situation to AGOT; fat, decadent monarchs thinking they are safe in their palaces with their jewels but they forget that the poor outnumber the rich. Kings were considered chosen by God but such an act on the Great Sept of Baelor would add fan to the flames of discontent.





	1. Chapter 1

**Varys**

That petulant boy king had been planning to have Ned Stark confess his crimes and then kill him anyway, his little bird in Joffrey’s chambers had informed him of Littlefinger’s honeyed words designed to make Ned stark loose his head. Ned stark so honourable and noble that he was genuinely shocked when Petyr betrayed him, didn’t he know there was nothing deadlier than a lover scorned? Petyr had been planning vengeance on the Starks ever since Brandon was promised Lady Catelyn’s hand, then when he met her years later with Eddard in the brothel they had openly shown love and affection for each other; real love and with that they had sealed Eddard’s fate.

  


**Joffrey**

Joffrey watched on increasingly annoyed as they waited for Ned to appear from the Black Cells, finally two guards came out from the darkness but had no prisoner in tow and the word started to spread that the cell had been empty. Joffrey thought his head would explode he was so angry, his mother put her arm around him in a possessive way and he pushed her off. Would it always be thus? Her mollycoddling him like he was a baby? He was a King! The King! He turned and gave her a shove so she would not approach him again and then his eyes fell on Sansa. Stupid snivelling girl; she had actually said ‘if you have any love left for me in your heart’ to him, didn’t she know he had never loved her? She was pathetic and weak; why would he love her? Just because his Father said they had to wed, that’s the only reason he had ever spent time with her. She’s smiling at him now; so stupid, she thinks I’m going to let this go? I was going to punish Ned Stark for trying to take my crown and if I can’t punish him I’ll punish her. Holding up his hands he silenced the crowd so he could speak: a ruler commands utter obedience. 

“Citizens of King’s Landing today you were to see the traitor Eddard Stark admit to his crimes of treason and be executed for those crimes,” no one was expecting that last bit but it had all been arranged with Payne. “But Eddard Stark has proven himself a coward as well as a traitor and has run away from the consequences of his actions leaving behind only his daughter Lady Sansa to answer for his crimes. As she is my betrothed it would be wrong to behead her-” his mother put a hand on his arm and is trying to talk to him, he shrugs her off in anger and signals for Ser Borris to hold her back and continues; “Lord Stark must have no love for his daughter to abandon her here and if he does then he will step forward now as we make her answer for his crimes.” He motions to Ser Illyn and Ser Meryn to seize her and the stupid girl doesn’t even try to fight she just starts crying like the pathetic creature she is and says some nonsense about having nothing to do with her Father’s crimes. She is so annoying! He will enjoy doing this, Ser Meryn strips her dress off her shoulders and her screams are hilarious, the two knights hold her so she is facing the crowd, her breasts on full view to everyone, he has to bite his lip to hold back the huge grin he feels and takes the whip from Ser Illyn’s belt; (he always wanted to try this) stares at the naked, flawless, porcelain skin of her back before cutting the whip down on it the first time. 

Varys in his ridiculous dress is calling to him and a few other people are begging him “Your grace please reconside-” “Your grace Ned Stark-” He rounds on Littlefinger and cracks the whip down on his face. 

“You’re the one who told me a true king would not allow such a slight to go unpunished, now shut up!” Littlefinger is holding a hand to his face where blood is spilling from between his fingers. He gives everyone else on the dais a warning look and turns back to the task at hand. It was harder than he thought; she didn’t bleed each time the whip fell on her and he saw Illyn and Meryn flinch when he missed his mark a few times, they held her by the wrists her arms held out wide. He imagined her tits jiggling every time the whip fell. Even if her Father did step forward for his punishment Joffrey wasn’t sure he would stop hurting her for the fun of it. After a few strokes he looked around to see the reactions on people’s faces and was angry that someone had taken away Myrcella and Tommen so he sent someone to fetch them; someone needed to show them what being a real king meant. As the whip cracked down on her back he cursed the heat and the limited movement allowed by his tailored coat. He wondered if he should kill Tommen, it didn’t do to have someone standing by to take your throne; lead to problems in the future. 

  


  


**Sansa**

At first she didn’t really believe it was happening, her Father had escaped the Black Cells? How long had it been since anyone checked on him? His leg was broken had anyone been taking care of him? What was going on? Everything had been so perfect only a few short days ago now her Father was a usurper and everyone hated her and they wouldn’t let her talk to anyone, she had this horrible feeling that some of her household had been killed; not just the swordsmen but the others, she had seen the blood in the tower of the hand, she had heard the screams. Had some of them been in the cells too? Did they help Father escape? When they grabbed her she couldn’t understand what she had done, what could she have possibly done to deserve the hate in Joffrey’s eyes now? He had the same smile he had had when he cut the butcher’s boy. She had not been able to understand why that day had gone so wrong but now she thought she was beginning to understand: he liked hurting people. It was a strange thing to realise as her face was burning with embarrassment and she faced the crowd; her breasts on full display. He liked causing pain in others and he was going to hurt her now, how had she not seen it before? She wanted to die with shame as she looked out over the crowd hoping for a friendly face, anything to give her hope that what was about to happen wasn’t really about to happen and her eyes fell on the statue of Baelor so large and majestic. She saw a child-Arya!

She was there on Baelor’s foot, she took what looked like a stick from her belt and jumped down from the statue making a beeline for the dais, a look of determination on her face as the sunlight glinted off the metal of what she now knew to be a blade. Sansa saw it all in an instant; Arya was so little but so brave, she would attack the dais, the guards would be armed but she would throw herself at them to protect her sister; her fickle unworthy sister who hadn’t spoken kindly to her since Lady died. Sansa would not let them kill Arya like they killed Lady, she would protect her like Arya had protected Nymeria. . . somehow. The first lash of the whip sent a white flash of pain across her back, she bit her lips and did not scream. Maybe if Arya didn’t hear her scream she would not attack the dais, no not enough she had to tell her to stay safe to protect herself, tears rolling down her face she opened her eyes and scanned the crowd for a face, any face to help her save Arya, the next strike brought a moan from her but she bit harder and she was sure Arya wouldn’t have heard it. Then she saw him; all in black a vaguely familiar face, nights watchmen were always welcomed at Winterfell and he wore their garb.

Her eyes locked with his pleadingly and then flicked to where she thought Arya was still pushing through people. Then she knew; standing there in front of the Sept of the Seven what she could do to make this man help her and to make Arya let him. She sucked in a breath as the next lash made contact and started to sing as loud as she could; she wasn’t in key, tears and snot were dribbling down her face, she was half naked and she was shaking from more than just fear and cold but she felt more like a wolf of Winterfell than she had in a long time. “ _The Father's face is stern and_ ” she stopped to let the whip fall so she could bite her lip to stop from screaming. “strong, he sits and-“ pause for the next lash, her eyes are on the night's watchman now pleading with him and darting to the other place in the crowd “ _judges right from wrong. He-“_ She says the words as quickly as she can between strokes; let him know the song, most northmen wouldn’t know a song about the new southern gods maybe this wasn’t such a great idea “ _weighs our lives, the_ -“ The last line, that’s the one she needs, she can see people still being moved by something too short to see, a blade sticks up in the air, thank the gods for Arya being so short! “ _short and long, and_ ” The watchman moves now, he sees, he has understood, maybe, he is making a beeline through the crowd, faster than Arya is as it is much denser this close to the dais “ _loves the little children_.” That line, let them understand that line, please in the name of the gods old and new let Arya and the night's watchman understand that line.

He understands but does Arya? She is in so much pain, she feels her legs giving out but she must continue, her arms are held painfully horizontal to her body by the knights, pain and penance. She wrote that letter to Robb, he must not come to King’s Landing, Joffrey is a liar, Arya was right all along “ _The Mother gives the gift_ -“ There is so much white hot pain her eyes roll in her head, she may faint, no she is a wolf she will see Arya safely away then she will let herself pass away but not before she grits her teeth and tries to scream; putting all of her hate and anguish into it but really sounding rather weak “ _of life, and watches over_ ” pain only pain, is she safe yet can I rest? “ _every wife. Her gent_ -” Her voice has failed her, she has not the energy to continue and another wave of hurt racks her body the night watchman is all in black, he is conspicuous against the sea of bright southern colours, she sees him with his back to her; standing still, she slips away to blackness wishing she was stronger. A coldness hits her face and a new sort of searing, burning pain is poured on her back; forgetting her resolve to be silent she squirms and cries out in pain. Her arms are not being held out now and she can hear people talking as a cloak is pushed over her front and a deep voice says “I’ll have to carry you over my shoulder; only way with your back in that state” and she is lifted not ungently onto a solid, hard shoulder. She passes out again and dreams of wolves; of Nymeria and Lady running through the godswood in Winterfell and being happy, her guilt over Lady and over writing that letter to Robb and of running up the Serpentine steps finally easing away. 

  


**The Crowd**

There is such a thing as a crowd mentality, whenever there is a lot of people in one place they tend to think the same way; they cheer together, they shout together and today they would feel together. They come from many different backgrounds; guild officials and guild members, beggars and tradesmen, knights and sell-swords, whores and septas. Thousands of them gather all in one place so tight they are shoulder to shoulder all to see the traitor. At first there was excitement; a traitor would be made to confess his crimes which meant free entertainment, these nobles deserved to be taken down a peg or two and it didn’t really matter which one of them it was. 

Impatience: when was the entertainment going to start? Where was the prisoner? 

Cheering: The young King steps forward to make his first announcement since his Father died and he was made king. 

Confused cheering: The traitor was Father to the King’s betrothed, was she still his betrothed? 

Lustful and vindictive cheering: The girl’s dress is ripped from her shoulders by the knights and she is held up on display to the crowd, she is beautiful. She has worn silks her whole life and eaten every day while they went hungry she deserves a taste of humility. 

Spreading silence: The new King is whipping a girl that his knights are holding still for him with a look of pure glee on his face. In their silence they hope/fear to hear her scream but mostly hear the fall of the whip and those closest hear her muffled moans. 

More Silence: Few people would enjoy watching a young girl being whipped and fewer would admit to enjoying such things in public so the crowd has stopped cheering now. 

Shocked Silence: She sings, as load and sweetly as she can she sings to the Gods of the Sept she is standing on for help.

Spreading Disgust: She was just a girl how could she be a traitor deserving of this. How could he enjoy doing this? Those closest swear they see a bulge in his pants. Didn’t he just describe her as his betrothed? 

Complete silence: The people at the back of the crowd can now hear bits and pieces of the hymn she sings out. 

Growing rage: Her voice is faltering and she cannot finish the hymn, there is silence after the next stroke of the whip, have they killed her? 

Whose was the first voice? In a crowd that big who can tell? A voice sings out in one section “ _gentle smile ends all strife_ ,” People close by look around for the voice but find themselves joining in first one by one and then more “ _and she loves her little children_ ” The number of singers grows like a ripple through the crowd until everyone is singing it, their voices getting louder and more certain as they sing “ _The Warrior stands before the foe, protecting us where e'er we go_.” And the crowd of sell-swords and knights, whores and septas, merchants and beggars all join their voices for one song, for one purpose. 

  


**Yoren**

He had gone to the square expecting to see Ned Stark and instead the daughter, young and innocent was being held by those buggering bastards and hurt, he looked away in shame. He should have tried harder to stop Lady Catelyn abducting the imp, he should have never stopped at that inn with him. He should have screamed and roared at Ned Stark to get his daughters the hell out of King’s Landing. Why hadn’t he left when Yoren told him to? Why had he stayed? There was a story about him being in a street brawl outside a brothel with Jamie Lannister. What could possibly have been so important in a brothel that he risked this? Yoren had heard about what the Lannisters had done to Princess Ellia Martell, their hands were clean but their banners were not, the blood of murdered babes stained them red and Ned stark had thought to leave his girl with them. He could not look as they stripped her, Benjen Stark had been his brother in the night’s watch for years and this was his niece, he felt sick. Too ashamed to look and too ashamed to look away he shot her a glance hoping that if she saw him she would know that he was sorry. The pleading in her eyes nearly broke him and then she looked away and back at him, she was biting her lip but looking at him in a pointed way that had him wondering, she was trying to tell him something but why? She had no one else to tell he supposed. He began to look in the direction her eyes kept flicking to.  

Then he heard the singing, someone must have decided it was better than the sound of whip on flesh, it stopped just as the whip made contact then started again. He turned around in horror. Poor girl, poor, brave girl. She prays by singing to her Gods even when everyone thinks they have abandoned her. Following her eye line, he started to move in the direction she had been looking and saw an immediate reaction in her stance so he walked faster hoping he recognised what or who she had been looking at. There is a bit of commotion up ahead as a small boy pokes people with his- no her blade as she moves forward, he grabs the girl by the hair and the wrist of her sword hand and calls.

“Come here boy that’ll teach you for running away.” The last time he had seen her she had been dressed in breaches and just as dirty but she had the looks of her uncle and father so he would have recognised her anywhere he pulled her in close and hugged her, bending down to whisper in her ear; “Your sister told me to save you, do not fight me and I will get you home.” She went still against him. 

“We have to help her! they’re hurting her!” She said in a small desperate but determined voice. 

“They outnumber us, she told me to keep you safe and that’s what I will do.” He started trying to walk her away from the sept but she struggled under his grip. 

“I don’t believe you, when did you talk to her? You never talked-” 

“She told me with her eyes where you were, hear that song she’s singing? It’s not for the gods it’s for you” 

“ _of life, and watches over_ ” Her voice is weak now and Yoren knows she won’t be able to hold out much longer; brave girl, strong girl. 

“That bit about watching over little children was about you, she’s telling me to keep you safe now come on girl.” The tiny little street urchin is crying now, he doesn’t know what to do, how do you make a girl stop crying? They only had boys in the night's watch. “Hey kid do you know the rest of the song, happen you should sing it.” She stares daggers at him. “Sing it because she hasn’t the strength to.”

Her little teary voice starts hesitantly at first but a few people near them look around and nod approval then join their voices with hers; “ _with sword and shield and spear and_ _bow, he guards the little children_.” The crowd picks up in volume and Yoren continues to lead the little girl away, he couldn’t help the older one, Gods know he would if he could, he could keep the younger one safe though, his cheeks are wet with tears as he takes the girl down an alley and cuts off her hair. Awkwardly, but feeling she needs it as much as he does he gives her another hug. “You’re going to have to be very brave my lady, brave like your uncle at the wall who fights and brave like your sister who bit her tongue to save you, I’ll get you home but you’ll have to be ‘Arry the night's watch recruit ‘til we reach Winterfell alright? You’ll just be another recruit, nobody will notice you but you’ll have to work like a boy and live like a boy. Alright?” She sniffles into his shoulder and nods and he takes her away with him. 

Furious at Lord Eddard Stark who visited a brothel instead of getting them to safety, furious at Lady Catelyn who believed she was avenging one son while simultaneously endangering her two daughters, furious at himself for not being able to do more. Grateful to Lady Sansa for giving him the chance to do this much, he would not fail her. 

  


At The Sept Joffrey had never been very athletic, he disliked getting dirty or sweaty and complained so much about sparring lessons that his mother told him he didn’t have to have them anymore. That’s why his arms were so weak that they were barely up to the task of continuously cracking the whip against her skin. He could still hurt her but he didn’t break the skin as often as he would have liked, his arm got tired after the first eight lashings and he started to slow down, beads of sweat forming on his brow, he supposed he could just give the whip to someone else but he felt his people needed to see him in all of his glory, he brought it down harder and there was the sweet glittering of blood off the cord. 

A crowd of several thousand people starting to sing was a formidable site; the sound hit them on the steps like a physical wave: overwhelmingly loud and intense. He smirked at this: the Stark girl had prayed to her gods for deliverance and all it had done was make a few people sing, The Hound stopped his hand as it went to move again. 

“Your majesty they’re getting pretty restless we should cut this short; they outnumber us.” 

“What do I care I’m the King! If any of them make a move against me, you’ll kill them!” He raised the whip again and brought it down but she didn’t flinch the same as before, he moved her face and saw her shut eyes. “She’s passed out, no point in carrying on. Hound you take her.” He turns to the crowd as Sandor Clegane gives her half and half; half the brandy on her back to clean the wounds and half down her throat for the pain. Well not quite half as quite a bit spilled down her front. Joffrey raised his hands to the citizens a smile still wide on his face and the same way as before motions for silence. It doesn’t come as quickly as he expected, as it did the first time which irritates him. Finally they are quiet and he begins to speak. 

“The wolf-bitch has fallen asleep; she was so weak she couldn’t even take her full punishment!” He giggles and waits for them to laugh, stupid peasants they just don’t know a good joke when they hear it “She was so weak she even wet herself, she’s covered in piss.” He waits again but there is still no laughter, what is wrong with these people? Didn’t they know that Lords and knights; the highest in the realm found him hilarious? His patience was waning now and he was getting angry again. He sneered at them in anger and decided to end the display. “Lady Sansa has paid for her Father’s treasons but her traitorous brother and Father are gathering an army in the north and are planning to attack us, they plan to kill the royal family and take the throne from me! Your rightful King!” Ser Barristen Selmy is now in front of the girl and trying to rouse her, he is also trying to get her to sip at the sweet brandy he carries in his hip flask, spilling less than the Hound did because his hands aren't shaking. He is surprised when Sandor Clegane takes off his cloak and covers her breasts with it; fastening it carefully around her neck to drape over her front. Between them they lift the girl. She moans pathetically and they try to rouse her so she may walk; there is no way to carry her without causing more pain. 

“Do not fear citizens I intend to whip the northern usurpers just like I whipped this northern cunt and keep my throne!” There is a half-hearted cheering from various people who are obviously cheering because he’s the king but it is soon silenced by the stony glares of people around them. War; the boy had been king for less than a week and they were at war. The girl is carried away on the shoulder of the Hound and the King starts to leave the dais with his entourage, Lord Baelish has blood oozing between his fingers as he holds them to his face, Queen Cersei is released from Ser Boris’s hold and the other members of the small council quietly follow their boy King with his Lannister soldiers and King’s Guard towards the Red Keep. The king stops to say something to his brother and sister before continuing; the children had been crying and screaming as the Lannister guards held their faces still to watch the spectacle before them. The crowd does not hear Joffrey telling them not to be so childish but they see him strike the 6 year old prince across the face and walk on. Joffrey didn't seem to notice but others on the dais that day did, the deafening silence of thousands of people being totally silent after hearing their King speak, it was unnerving and dangerous the quietness of this loud city and the guards made the royal party walk extra fast back to the Red Keep, only really feeling safe when they had safely closed the portcullis behind them.

The people in the crowd would later compare the girl to other unfortunate highborn ladies such as Princess Ellia of Dorne; the people’s Princess who was raped by the Mountain that rides with her babies’ blood and brains still covering him. Now his brother was sworn shield to the King and the way he had carried her away was described as covetous and possessive and the people could not help themselves from imagining the horrific things that would be happening to her. There was also Lyanna Stark, sister to Eddard Stark and betrothed to the late King, he had loved her so much he started a war to get her back though some would argue it had more to do with the mad King burning forty northern bannermen alive along with the warden of the north and strangling his heir and then demanding Robert Baratheon’s and Eddard Stark’s heads from Jon Arynn. Some argued that the three Lords had no choice but to go to war; the King had ordered their heads in case they might one day cause treason. As the debate went on about why Robert’s rebellion happened in the first place a popular theme started in the eateries and taverns, docks and court yards where people gathered; this boy King shouldn't be called Joffrey I, he should be called Aerys III. The men got further into their cups as they brooded in silence at what that meant and the women clutched their babes tighter to their breasts. They all remembered the sacking of King’s Landing; the Stark men with Baratheons, Arryns and Lannisters, now it was going to happen again and the highborns in their castle would not starve, would not suffer, would not lose all but they would. The people would.


	2. Four years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am counting each season as one year which seems fair since in the real world a year has passed for the actors, this also helps with the Sansa/Sandor age difference. This is five years later after the whipping, I couldn't be bothered writing verbatim all the things that would have happened differently so it will be told in flashbacks, explained further in later chapters, I hope ye enjoy!

Elleria tossed the manuscript aside and stared out at the water gardens, the water gardens had always been a place of peace and quiet contemplation, Oberon had loved being here, he said it reminded him of all the best parts of Essos. Oberon, what would he make of this play? If only he had still been alive when it was written and their agent in Bravos had sent it to them. Over the years he had travelled all over Essos and made many friends and contacts who kept him informed of things of note or interest. He knew before the cursed lions of Daenerys and her Dothraki husband and of the dragons. The dragons changed all the rules and at the same time changed nothing, a Lannister still sat pretty on the throne and half the country was still starving. This play was unique in that it didn't just record the decadence and ridiculous displays of wealth in King's Landing but also recorded the laments, sorrows and tragedies of the small folk, the countless families doomed to starvation, desperation and death after their patriarchs had been taken off to war and left their loved ones behind defenseless and starving.

It was a unique play for other reasons too, it was whispered that it had been written by Sandor Clegane himself but Elleria suspected the true author was a woman and none other than Lady Sansa Stark herself. She wished Oberon were here, he would have known what to make of it all. It had been barely four years earlier that they had recieved word of how the new King dealt with traitors and their daughters, she remembered how his knuckles had gone white as he clenched his fists upon hearing the message and he paced the room looking like he wanted to smash or kill something. They had always known that Tywin Lannister was an immoral, oath breaking, social climbing monster; loyal to no one but his own agenda but this was very different. He had begged his brother Prince Doran to take up arms and ally with the Starks to get the girl out of there, to overthrow all the Baratheons or ally with one of the Baratheons and wipe out the Lannisters once and for all but his cowardly brother refused; stating that the people wanted peace not war. Oberon had been disgusted at this cowardly answer, the Dornish had fire in their veins and they raged for justice and the blood of their enemies, not peace under Lannister rule.

According to their people who had been in the crowd that day the golden Prince was still calling her his betrothed as he had had her stripped before the entire city and set about whipping her. What really disturbed Oberon most was the story about the girl being carried away after this assault by Sandor Clegane, there were many rumors about Joffrey giving the poor girl to his hound for fun as she recovered, they had believed the rumors; believing the Lannisters capable of the most horrible deeds. This play painted a completely different picture, she even found herself, despite all the odds, sympathizing with the character of the misused and abused Hound, his dedication to getting the young Princess away from her captors and north to safety was touching, until you reminded yourself that it was a work of fiction and not to be taken seriously.

Marcella sat across from her looking every bit the innocent maiden she was reported to be but Elleria knew of her dalliances with Prince Trystane and was pretty sure the maiden part was now only a technical term. Since Oberon's death she had had to force herself not to scratch out the little girls eyes every time she saw her, it was too much that the best Prince of Dorne should have died on the orders of the little bitch's grandfather but the girl had proven remarkably loyal to house Martell, her grief and condolences appeared genuine, often she stayed up into the night reminiscing about the times Oberon had trained her along with his own daughters in the use of the sword, she had favored throwing knives and had been looking forward to showing him her progress when he returned from that cursed wedding. Elleria smiled back at the girl, she was all assurances that she had loved Oberon as if he had been her own Father, she also lamented often that she had not been brave, brave like Sansa who hadn't cried out as she had been whipped, she had sang to the holy seven, Marcella's account of that day had changed over time, at first she recounted the tail in as little detail as possible but as she had grown to trust her new foster family more details had come out, of how Joffrey must have ordered the guards beforehand to hold her's and her little brother's faces so that they had to watch the appalling skeptical, she had screamed until she couldn't breath as her brother mutilated the other girl who she had only recently called her friend and then when she realised Sansa was singing she had joined her voice with the crowd's and sung the hymn as loud as she dared, fearful her brother would punish her too if she showed any outright defiance. Bit by bit she had told them more; of the beatings, the cruelty and her and Tommen's fear of being in that castle of guards who obeyed his every order, she had even when they had had a bit of Dornish wine one night and were having a very relaxed evening, all the girls together admitted to a few things that he had done to her and Tommen before swearing them to secrecy.

Now was her chance to prove where her loyalties lay.

**********

Jamie and Bronn got to the Water Gardens in the stolen uniforms and tried to inconspicuously but quickly search the grounds for the young Princess, Jamie hadn't seen his daughter in nearly 6 years But he was sure he would be able to pick out her blond hair among the mostly dark haired beauties of Dorne. When he heard the clashing of metal on metal he feared the worst but turning a corner he saw that it was just some women sparring, he presumed it was Oberon's infamous daughters commonly called the Sandsnakes and made to leave but then he heard a deep booming voice call "Good show Myrcella! You're coming along brilliantly." One of the Warriors unwound the scarf covering her face and a few blond tendrils fell out.

"Thank you Mufasa, if I do well it is only because of your skill as a teacher." The man laughed heartily at the modest reply and slapped her on the shoulder in a most undignified way. The knot in Jamie's stomach did not go away but became an entirely new type of knot, this was not the demure, ladylike little girl he had left behind all those years ago. She was sweating and speaking amiably with men at arms and wielding weapons, she was not in danger or being mistreated but she was as far removed from the princess he had imagined as could be.

He and Bronn found an alcove out of the way so they could watch the proceedings, he found the Dornish heat oppressive to say the least but he certainly couldn't imagine sparring in it for any length of time, he wondered what else Marcella had been omitting in her letters home to her family. After an hour or two a handsome young man with a look of the Martells about him approached the group and was greeted by what Jamie now realised were his cousins and taking Marcella by the arm he led her away from the group and on toward the gardens. The two had linked arms and as soon as they were out of sight of the others began to passionately kiss and embrace in a way that really had Jamie's stomach churning, Bronn tried to stop him but he had leaped out and knocked the young boy out before he had thought it through. What he really hadn't expected was for Marcella to still be armed and she attacked him as soon as the offending punch had landed. Luckily Bronn was there to deflect her blade but she continued to fight and call for help as Jamie desperately tried to reason with her, too late he realised that both he and Bronn had their faces covered so of course the girl would continue to fight them and call for help, quick as a flash he pulled down his scarf and hoped she would recognise him as he led his hands up and whispered "Marcella, Marcella! It's me! Your uncle Jamie!" His whispering was all for nought as her frantic cries had already summoned the guards and the sand snakes to the scene. Faced with no other choice he dropped his weapons and looked around for an official to surrender himself to, Bronn looked every bit as lost for choices and likewise dropped his weapon As spears and blades surrounded them as they stood over the unconscious crown prince.

"Bronn!" Myrcella exclaimed with glee, "What are you doing here? Is uncle Tyrion with you? Did he send you?" She looked at him expectantly and Jamie felt the twist in his gut grow greater, no doubt she didn't know of Tyrion's role in Joffrey's death, it would devastate her to know the truth, she had given him a quick glance but was now totally focused on Bronn, 'it had been six years' he reminded himself as she didn't seem to recognise him.

"Err, no Princess, Tyrion isn't with me, I haven't heard from him since he escaped prison, I'm sorry but he hasn't been in touch with me. But I brought your uncle Jamie to see you." Marcella's face fell at the news that her uncle Tyrion was not there but barely reacted to the news of her uncle Jamie.

"Yes so I can see." She replied coldly and gave Jamie an assessing glance, taking in the gold hand, the beard and the stolen, slightly blood covered clothes Then she spoke to Mufasa who was obviously the leader of the guards. "He attacked Prince Oberon and knocked him out." Before Jamie could protest or explain his side of things he was knocked unconscious.

********

He woke several hours later in a dark cell with a single barred window about eight feet off the ground with a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head but he was still alive which was not something he had expected. Bronn was sitting on the other side of the cell worrying a hangnail on his thumb with a frown marring his brow, it worried Jamie a lot to see the easy going 'devil-may-care' sell sword looking worried.

"You're awake then, good, I think we have a lot to discuss before those knobbies come back looking for answers, I don't like this, I don't like this at all it smells of a trap if ever one did." Bronn lamented.

"A trap or no we have to get Myrcella out of here and to safety." Bronn's face whipped up to look at him then.

"I think she's the one that laid the trap, they carted you off like you were a sack of potatoes and she didn't care a jot, just kept asking me questions about Tyrion, King Tommen and Lady Sansa, kept asking if I'd had any news of them, told me that dwarfs have been officially invited to seek sanctuary in Dorne to escape the 'mad queens genecide' her words. I don't like this, I don't think she is their victim, I think she's one of them." Jamie shrugged off Bronn's words as being over dramatic, Myrcella was just showing a healthy concern for her uncle who had gone missing, obviously she didn't understand the extent with which he was involved in her brother's murder but it was understandable that she would be concerned for him, as for her apparent indifference to Jamie, well that was understandable since he had punched her fiancé in front of her mere moments before. She was in danger from this nest of vipers and they must protect her, this was a certainty to him.

It wasn't long before they were summoned to the Prince Doran's solar, he had often heard stories of the King and his gout and he greeted them from his chair with wheels which looked like a comfortable place to sit, Myrcella stayed seated next to her betrothed wearing a particularly riské dress that made him want to cover her up and Oberon's former par amour Elleria sat across from them, the fiery Dornish woman stared daggers at him but made no move to greet him, the same way no one else in the room made any move to greet him, the armed guards he noticed stayed particularly close and seemed particularly tense as he entered the room the royal family were sitting in. He knew he would not be welcomed in Dorne for his part in the mad King's death and for his Father's part in what happened to Princess Ellia but he found Myrcella's apparent disregard for him particularly unnerving. Having said the formal introductions he felt he had to say something.

"Are you not cold dear niece?" He tried hoping she would take the hint and cover up a bit.

"No." She replied nonchalantly and went back to looking adoringly at the young man sitting next to her, she looked so like Cersei had at that age and at the same time totally different, Cersei had looked at him that way when no one was around, he hoped she wasn't getting up to the same things Cersei had been getting up to with him at that age. Looking at the two of them holding hands and looking adoringly into each other's eyes in full view of everyone he had a sinking feeling. She loved him and he loved her, things would be much more difficult now. He expected a different reaction when he produced the golden locket and explained the details of how it was delivered to King's Landing. The elder Prince seemed shocked and horrified and looked to his son and Myrcella sitting on the chaise lounge.

"Is this truly your locket? Has someone stolen it from your rooms, here in my palace?" He asked in concern.

"Indeed it is the locket given to me by the Mad Queen-"

"Myrcella! Do not call your mother that." Jamie interjected but she continued as if she had not heard him.

"-before I was sent away from King's Landing, I gave it to Elleria to send back to her, I was unaware of the method or mode of packaging but I must confess to finding it quite amusing; a gold lion in the fangs of a viper, quite fitting packaging." Marcella seemed totally calm as she looked Ser Jamie in the eye at these words. Was she somehow under their power? Was she trying to tell him she was trapped there and could not speak freely? He stood straighter and tried to match her attitude of cool indifference, something was going on that he must understand.

"Well there was no note explaining the circumstances and naturally your Mother, Queen Cersei assumed the worst, she will be delighted that her fears were unfounded." He replied.

"Those fears were unfounded, yes." She smiled now with a calmness that chilled his blood. "Some very interesting literature coming out of Braavos these days. Have You read 'The Red Keep; A Princess's Story'?" She waved a manuscript in front of him that he moved to take but was instantly stopped by the armed guards. Myrcella glanced at them with a little smile twisting her lips. "No matter, I can give it to you as you're leaving to bring to your cell to read, it's quite an extraordinary piece of penmanship, an old friend of Prince Oberon's scribed the play to paper as he watched it performed in a small theatre in Braavos and sent us a copy, Elleria has employed fifty scribes to copy it and it is being sent all over Dorne and eventually the Seven Kingdoms, you only have a small part in it, in fact you're barely mentioned at the end of Act Two where the heroine; that is Princess Sansa is talking with the hero-" she glanced at the Martels each in turn as if looking for confirmation, "which is The Hound, Sandor Clegane and the two talk in detail about how you pushed a nine year old boy out a window thus starting a chain of events which led to war and the massacre of tens of thousands of people in the Riverlands." A deadpan silence fell on the room, Bronn had been expecting something like this, he had heard of women who were taken by the Ironborn or by wildlings and becoming more ironborn or wildling than their captures but he had hoped he was wrong. The girl was no longer a Lannister, no longer a lion, the glare she was giving the Kingslayer held more venom than any Dornish viper's fangs.

"Obviously it is a work of fiction written by our enemies to destabilize our family's rightful claim." He had to hand it to the Kingslayer, he went down fighting, refusing to give up until the bitter end, Bronn sighed and relaxed his stance a bit, whatever was coming Myrcella had seemed genuinely happy to see him, maybe if they killed Ser Jamie they would let him stay on here, no way could he return to the whore queen with her dead lover/brother, she was one crazy bitch you did not want to cross.

"I do not think it is fiction, when I was allowed to befriend Lady Sansa I found her to be witty and insightful and there are a few things in the play; references to conversations she and I had or things we embroidered together that no one else would know about, I think she either wrote the play or co wrote it though obviously I do not know as it is always advertised as written by anonymous." Jamie listened to this with growing trepidation.

"As I said; written by our enemies to destabilize our claim." He replied.

"Your enemies, not mine. I've known for a long time that Robert Baratheon was not my natural Father-" Jamie moved as if to protest but the guards suddenly had a blade to his throat, the gout ridden Prince looked shocked and appalled and made as if to speak but Myrcella continued. "I saw the two of you together when I was little, Tommen and I had been playing hide and seek and I was in a cupboard, I wasn't spying but I saw, it disturbed me to say the least and then later people started whispering about it, it was the worst kept secret in King's Landing. It made me sad that Robert was not my Father, he was not a very involved father but he often gave me presents or came to see me, when I was small enough he would pick me up and throw me in the air just to make me laugh, Queen Cersei never approved of that and always told him off for doing it until he stopped. I think he was a man very capable of affection and love but only if he was encouraged to it, she discouraged it so he never spent any time with the three of us and I think we all lost out because of that." Jamie wanted to scream 'he was a fat, obnoxious asshole who had no right to love you!' But he held his tongue and therefore his throat as the sharp blade pressed against his larynx. "The day that I had to watch Joffrey whip Sansa was the worst of my life, he had told the guards before hand to hold Tommen and I so we had to watch, I closed my eyes but I will never forget the crack of that whip or the sound of that song. She didn't scream you know? That's not an exaguration or a myth, she didn't scream but sang as loud as she could a hymn to the gods, they didn't help her, no one did or so I thought at the time until this play came out.

"It actually eased my mind a great deal, you see all this time I thought Sansa had prayed with everything she had to the Seven Gods to save her, there on the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor and I thought it was proof that the Gods weren't listening, were never listening as they didn't help her or save her from one ounce of pain or humiliation." She smiled warmly now and looked at the manuscript in front of her, "But they did help her, she saw a travelling Night's Watch man in the crowd, one she had often met at Winterfell and her song was a hidden message to him to save her little sister who was hiding in the crowd, all this time I have wondered how Sansa managed not to scream, I've wondered how she managed to survive so much pain and humiliation and there it is in print; she did it for the love of her family, not for herself. Have you ever done anything so brave and selfless Ser Jamie?" Jamie wanted to speak, wanted to say something to change how this conversation was going.

"Joffrey told me in detail before I left King's Landing of what the Martels would do to me in revenge for what was done to Princess Ellia, he brought me to the room where you can still see the blood on the wall from young Prince Aegon, he described in horrific detail the injustices that were done to her in that room and then he locked me in. He was not usually so cruel but I suppose he wanted to get the most out of tormenting me before I was sent away to Dorne. I spent the night in that room, surrounded by ghosts and blood soaked walls, no one heard me calling for help or if they did they had orders to do nothing. The next day Queen Cersei said it was only a childish prank and that I should not be so upset about it." Jamie's face had paled during this narrative but now he looked genuinely floored, surely such things had not happened, surely Joffrey had loved his siblings, he had heard of what he had done to Lady Sansa and was sure he had not been told the half of it but this was very disturbing. "Prince Oberon accepted me as one of the family, he even offered to teach me how to spar, I do not think he was serious but when I accepted he decided to try it and then I got to know his daughters, do you know he had eight bastard daughters and he loved and acknowledged them all?" There was a note of reproach in her tone that made Jamie's jaw clench. "He was more of a Father to me in the six months I knew him here in Dorne than Robert Baratheon was or you ever were. He actually took the time to get to know me which neither of you ever had. I prayed for days when we heard he was going to fight to prove Uncle Tyrion's innocence, Uncle Tyrion and Oberon; the two men who had cared about me more than any of my so-called fathers ever had, killed by your man Gregor Clegane. At least Tyrion escaped, some day, hopefully I will see him again, until that day this will have to do. An epitaph if you will, my way of telling all of Westeros how sorry I am for all the pain born of my birth and my family." She now stood and handed him a raven scroll and handed a similar one to each of the Princes.

The note read 'I Princess Myrcella of House Baratheon do formally renounce all claim to the name Baratheon and to the title of Princess. I am a bastard born of an incestuous relationship between my mother, Queen Cersei Baratheon née Lannister and her twin brother Ser Jamie Lannister of the King's Guard. Lord Eddard Stark discovered the truth of my parentage and warned Queen Cersei to remove us from the city before King Robert returned from his hunting trip. King Robert was squired that day by my Mother's cousin Lancel Lannister who had been her lover for atleast a week, he gave the King so much wine that the boar he hunted killed him. Lord Eddard did not try to claim the throne for himself but rather for King Stannis Baratheon who had the most legitimate claim. All of this is the truth as I saw it during my time of living in King's Landing where lies are rampant, it was only when I lived amongst the honest and open people of Dorne that I became strong enough and confident enough to live openly as I truly am, I only hope I can now live with honour as I never have before.  
I shall henceforth be known as Myrcella Waters; a surname befitting a bastard born in King's Landing.'

Prince Doran finally spoke up; '' Myrcella you cannot send this message out."

She smiled at him sweetly "I already have, tied the messages to the raven's legs myself this morning, most of the noble houses of Westeros have been sent a message and the cities of Essos as well as the Iron Bank in Bravos, I have never felt so happy or so at peace." And she looked it Bronn had to concede, she looked absolutely happy and at peace, Elleria rose from the settee with a triumphant smile and embraced the girl.

"Well done my girl, You have been very brave, Oberon would have been proud of you."

The room erupted in people complaining, the two Princes seemed dumb founded and infuriated, the peaceful alliance they had secured with the throne now irretrievably broken, Jamie called and screamed that it wasn't true that she wasn't his daughter, that Cersei would never take another lover and that it was all a lie. Bronn leaned back against a handy pillar and watched the exchange. Chaos, it was always there wherever order was; ready to raise its ugly head at a moment's notice. He stared at the manuscript on the table and wished he had taken Tyrion up on his offer of getting an education, it must be some play that inspires Princesses to revoke their claims. She looked happy though, if a bit nervous as she stood there at the center of the barrage of questions and accusations as she held on to Elleria's hand.

 


	3. The Truth and Thespians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the players discuss their roles.

The young actress plopped in to the chair with a defeated sigh and a guttural sound that sounded something between a sniffle and a snort. She couldn't do it, she simply couldn't do it, they never should have cast her in this role. She fought hard to hold back the tears as she rubbed at her face with the cloth; dragging it across her grease covered skin until her flesh went bright red and stung. She was going to quit, she'd tell Izzy as soon as he returned, she was going to quit, she had to.

"Here, you look to me like a girl who needs a stiff drink." The older actress handed the girl a small glass of rum; taking the glass she downed it in one go though she usually abhorred the taste. "Directors have to direct, they have to tell us how they want us to act; you shouldn't take what he says personally. Writers are like artists who can only do the sketching and the first outlines of their art but the players are the ones that bring it to life, that give it colour. Most of the time with a new play like this that has never been performed before the writer doesn't know what they want the actor to do. They have an idea of how they want a line said or a scene performed but it is only as they see us in action that they realize what it is they really want. So every time you get shouted at for doing something in a way he doesn't like, remember it's only because you are the first person to perform his play, you are the first person to give his words life and colour. Which when you think about it is a great honour." Then Lady Crane took the empty glass with a kind smile and refilled it for the young girl to drink again.

"It's not that I mind being told what to do." The younger actress replied with a little, unladylike hiccup. "It's that there's so much direction, when I got the role I thought I could do it; I would be the main character, the heroine; everyone would be looking at me, I'd be in nearly every scene, I thought it would be my big chance to shine and be a real star. All I ever wanted to be was a great actress but....I can't do it!" The young girl wailed and threw her head in her hands in defeat.

"But you are doing it, the reviews from last month said you could be Princess Sansa herself hiding in Braavos, you had all those bounty hunters following you and trying to see if your real hair colour was brown or if it was just dyed, Izembaro had to get a few of the lads to walk you home every night until it became safer to live here in the theatre." The older woman replied kindly.

"They still walk me everywhere, Larry says it's his duty to protect me." A slight smirk spread over her lips as she thought of Larry's pathetic pick up line designed to get under her skirts and the memory of him doing just that.

"Those bounty hunters believed you could have been her." The girl started brushing the hair out of her face and looked at Lady Crane in the little vanity mirror.

"That was when we were only acting out the first and second Acts; when Lady Sansa was a highborn girl freshly arrived in Kingslanding and everything ahead looked hopeful and then the whipping scene-"

"-Which everyone agrees you perform very well."

"Only after hours of practice with Izembaro, he kept me nearly until dawn that first night because he wanted to get the scene just right. It's an exhausting scene, I hate having to do it every night."

"It's the cornerstone of the whole play, up until then the play is part comedy, part politics and all finery. That scene changes the whole play and makes it the tragic, serious epic it has to become, when you perform it well there isn't a dry eye in the house and you perform it very well most nights." The young starlet wiped at her dripping nose (in a way that would have made the real Princess Sansa shudder) as she listened to the older actress's words and continued her own rant.

"I just can't do it all, if I was playing one character for the whole play I could do it but her character is never the same from scene to scene, she goes from bickering with her sister in the first scene and lying to the King to save face after the prince attacks Arya to putting up with being publically whipped and shamed to save her little sister; I mean does she love her or hate her? It's so .... inconsistent. Then she goes from fearing the monstrous Hound who snarls at her to depending on him and caring for him. That bit makes no sense! People stop me in the street and tell me it makes no sense, an old woman stopped me the other day and asked if I was Princess Sansa and I said 'yes' and she said 'be careful of that big fella, men like him are only after one thing and a lady like you shouldn't be inviting him to your room every night even if he says it's only to read poetry.'" Lady Crane broke into laughter at the impression Bianca had put on and despite her misery the younger girl felt her mouth twitching. "It's not funny! I only had a twenty minute break to get something for my tea and the entire market place broke into a heated debate over what was going to happen next and if I was going to marry the Hound!" In spite of herself she was beginning to smile at the ridiculousness of it and the rum had left a lovely warm feeling in her belly that was beginning to make her feel more jolly.

"It's the question on everybody's lips, so many people have stopped me on the street to ask me what will happen next, I've never known a play to get the public's interest so much. Every new Act that is written seems to be a play in itself even though it is a continuation of the main story. Although I play the two roles of Lady Catelyn and Queen Cersei I find that it is not very challenging, a bit rushed when the scenes demand I change my wig and dress in minutes but in both women I play a mother doing what she does for her son's sake. You on the other hand; your character goes from demure princess to stripped and beaten martyr to jumping on the backs of brigands and stabbing them in the neck to save Sandor Clegane. It is a role that a master actor would find difficult and you were only a novice when it began, I didn't foresee how the play would evolve; no one did. That first time we performed it it seemed to be just like all the other plays on at the time: portraying the Starks as greedy usurpers while the golden Prince and his poor widowed mother suffered through the turmoils of people grabbing at their birthright. The crowd liked to have the Northerners played as arrogant villains overthrown and defeated by their own greed, when we were performing The Bloody Hand you only had one line and now look how far you've come." She said with a proud little smile. "You've evolved into quite a capable thespian these last few months."

"It's supposed to be the same play but with a few rewrites." The younger actress replied. 

"If you believe that then you'll believe anything, that piece of crap was written by Izembaro, it was the same as all the other plays running at the time, copying other people's versions of the war of the five Kings and the propaganda spread by the Lannisters but this play, this was totally original, the fearsome and Loyal Lannister Hound turning out to have a soul; no one else imagined that, any other play where he was even mentioned they just turned him into a joke because of his desertion at the Battle of the Blackwater. The sweet and silly Lady Sansa becoming so alone and friendless that she coaxes Sandor Clegane out of his shell, her horrific scars reminiscent of his own, that bit where he describes lying on his back in his Father's Keep after his face was destroyed and being driven mad by the itch and the misery of it and that story of his little sister reading Valerian plays to him," she wiped at the tear in her eye at the memory, "and how he hadn't been able to read any of the plays since." Her voice broke at the memory.

"It broke my heart when he said he couldn't read Twelfth Night to her because that was the one she hadn't finished. And then after the Red wedding, when she thought she had nothing left in the world he took that little book, the same book his sister had read from out of his saddle bags and read to the two girls by fire light had me balling the first time I read it." The younger actress admitted, her eyes tearing up.

"Izembaro did not come up with that scene or this play, personally I think out of all the rumors and out of all the theories of who our mystery writer is the one I like best is that Sandor Clegane brought the two princesses to Bravoos to keep them safe and is using a glamour to keep them hidden and he wrote the play with lady Sansa." Lady Crane said with a pensive frown.

"You think they wrote it together? I suppose so, a lot of the scenes are of the two of them just talking about things like what happened in the throne room and about the Lannister family tree." The two women exchanged a knowing look and a little smirk. They don't actually use the words 'The Whore Queen' in the play but it's so heavily implied that everyone in Braavos had coined the expression. "I saw another theatre troupe in the East End were doing a mock up of our play, Izzy has had to hire men to keep an eye out for players from other theatre troupes that are copying us."

"I saw that play and a few of the others." Bobono said as he sat next to her with another cup, always seeming to show up when there was drink being poured. They aren't a patch on ours, ours has-" he waved his hand in the air as he tried to think of the word, his other hand holding the rum bottle and refilling the ladies cups again. "-integrity, it feels like it's the truth, stripped of finery and lies, like when Sansa is stripped in the whipping scene and after that all our costumes and sets go from bright and colorful to grey and black as if grey and black are honest colors and gold and red are dishonest because after that it's just her and the Hound talking and stripping bare all the lies and rumors and propaganda to get to the solid, unembellished truth. There's stuff in our play that no one else would have, they hold the audience's attention with nudity and profanity, some of those copycat plays have him jumping her bones as soon as they're free of the King but I think our account is what really happened because it's too strange to be the work of fiction." Lady Crane nodded with a little frown on her perfect brow; 'too strange to be fiction' she had heard that term from many patrons of the play in the last few months.

The two actresses put their cups away and started to get ready for the next performance, they were both tired and drained from the rigmarole that was performing in the play. It had consumed their lives completely. Every few weeks another Act would be added and they would rehearse and rehearse until it was declared perfect, each rehearsal draining them both emotionally and physically but they kept going, an encouraging smile or word from Lady Crane helped the younger actress in those dark moments when she felt it was all too much for her. Bianca came to appreciate being taken under the more experienced actress's wing, she blanched at the memory of the thing she had been saving for before the play had changed everything.

As she put on her red wig in preparation for the evening's performance she caught Bobono's eye and asked the question she had been burning to ask for weeks but they were all forbidden from speaking of. "Who do you think the writer is?" Bianca's eyes held his in the looking glass as she secured the wig with her hair pins.

"Officially it was written by 'Nemo', everyone knows that." Bobono replied carefully as he took another sip of his rum.

"Nemo is High Valerian for 'Nobody' or 'No man', so who do you think really wrote it?" She asked insistently, it was ridiculous that these actors were putting their livelihood, their very lives in the hands of someone they had never met who was having them perform a play that villainised the most powerful family in Westeros.

"Whoever it is it's someone Izzy's afraid of." Marro piped up from where he was applying his own face paint, he played several different men during the performance but with a change of dress, face paint and hair he made each of them their own unique character, it would astonish the patrons if they realized just how few actors were in this company. He played Jory, man with few lines who stood tall and proud beside his Liege Lord who he was sworn to protect and died in the service of. He played Ser Meryn Trant who murdered the Braavosi water dancing teacher; he was glad no one recognized him in his civilian garb after performing that scene. He had never seen so many people in an audience cry out and draw their swords in outrage at a play. Syrio Forel had been famous among a certain crowd in the city and the class of people who frequented the little theatre changed after that, instead of the usual steady stream of whores and sailors that they usually got because of their close location to the docks they know had many upper rusts; former students and friends of the late man. It gave him a shiver down his spine when he saw them watching that scene, that first night they jumped out of their seats in outrage; demanding to know if the play was true, who the author was and how he had come by this information. Now they sat together and watched as still as statues, anger and hate in their eyes. Yes he was glad they could not recognize him out of his stage apparel.

"What makes you say that?" Bianca asked, now genuinely curious at the turn this conversation had taken.

"Izzy used to only perform plays with Kings in it so he could play them, always. He loved playing Tywin Lannister; the patriarch behind the Iron Throne, said that our class of customers preferred it that way but then, suddenly he puts on this play which is mostly dark scenes set in the forest with dark simple clothes, dark plane scenery and words, words that haunt the viewers souls. Izzy never wrote words this good, didn't know words this good existed. He always thought people came to the theatre to see how the other half lived or how the working classes thought they lived but this play is raw, the stage stripped to the bare bones, only the actors and the audience. Izzy never would have believed he could have put on a play without a single fart joke and still make a living, he wasn't bribed to put it on, he was scared into putting it on. That's what I think." Marro's statement had everyone in the room including Nan the seamstress who sat in her corner sewing a banner go quiet.

"That's what I've been wondering." Lady Crane finally said after a moment's silence.  
"Remember how he used to be? No one' so pinion mattered but his own, he strutted around the playhouse like the Kings he played on the stage and then something changed."

"Like someone had put the fear of the Many Faced God into him and he was being forced to put on this play stead of that other one we started with called The Bloody Hand." Bobono said in agreement.

"Do you think he regrets the decision now?" Bianca asked from her vanity table, her preparations forgotten. The players looked around the room and at each other, they had instinctively lowered their voices as this new train of speculation had begun, fearing some unknown person lying in wait in the shadows.

"No," Bobono finally said. "He dines out every night with the elite of Bravos, we all do, the theatre hares more per seat than it did before and it's full every night, no I don't think he regrets it and he does seem to enjoy the extra attention with all the bodyguards he has had to hire to protect us. They say manuscripts of the play have reached King's Landing and the whore queen has banned it and demanded anyone found with a copy have their head taken, so naturally sails have sky rocketed, Izzy has a nice little side going with sailors who are going to Westeros and smuggle it in. They had to double the cost and are selling twice as much, Izzy has four printers working for him now I think he's enjoying the notoriety."

"But if the queen knows about the manuscripts then she knows about the play house performing the play, it won't be long before she sends people here to deal with us, we need to be careful." Marro's tone had gone darker as they considered what the whore queen might have planned for them now that she knew they existed.

"A risk we'll have to take for the sake of the play." Lady Crane offered in a hopeless voice, it had been her fear for many months that their play would upset the wrong people who would come looking for revenge but what choice had she? Theatre troups were fickle friends and even worse enemies and if she left the play now to join another troupe there was no telling where she would end up.

Quietly in her corner Nan continued to sew the large piece of cotton that would be used as a banner, she liked sewing Direwolves.


	4. Money Men and Oysters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Meryn Trant visits the Iron Bank

The Assassin

The assassin wheeled her barrow of oysters through the market, the money man sat in his usual spot in the shade where his body guard (ever-present) watched over him as the little man wielded his power of money, of life and of death over the people who came to him. He could be compared to an emperor of old Valeria who looked down on the slaves in the pits and gave the order whether they lived or died. The difference was the death these men got was by the sea's hands and it was the lives of their families that they were bartering for, that their wives and children would not starve and suffer if they died on their latest voyage. She had the vial of poison, it was ready in her pocket, she merely had to add it to the oyster he asked for instead of vinegar. She was walking towards him, ready to carry out the will of the House of Black and White and then she saw them. The fat man she didn't know but he had all of the pomp and finery of a rich man of noble birth but the guards with him she knew; all wearing Lannister armour and one face in particular the assassin knew.

Meryn Trant.

He had been the first on her list, he would die, he had to die, the money man no longer mattered, the Assassin would not, could not be faceless anymore, as she ignored the money man calling to her for his oysters she became Arya Stark and she followed the marked man deeper into the city. 

The whole way there she tried to keep them in sight though she needn't have as the bumbling oaf in nobleman's clothes talked and blustered the whole way; attracting many onlookers, she did not care it made it all the easier for her to follow him and blend in with the crowd. Occasionally she heard snippets of what the oaf was saying and could almost hear Tycho Nestoris; a well known man in Braavos as he was a high official in the Iron Bank, grinding his teeth as the ignorant fool compared the Iron Bank to a gambling den. Although Arya had not been living in the city for very long she still had a lot of pride in it and its history. Kingdoms had come and gone, plagues and famines had ravaged lands and dynasties but the Iron Bank remained as constant as the element after which it was named so even she found herself getting annoyed at the fat man's pompous attitude and falsely placed pride.

*********

Inside the bank Tycho led the new Master of the Coin toward the inner office where a nearly a year earlier he had negotiated with Stannis and a few weeks ago he had negotiated with Sansa, she had been reluctant to leave the first floor where there were witnesses and exits but had acquiesced to speaking with him somewhere more private after he gave her his word that no one would attempt to trap or harm her in any way. Either she had been very naive or she had known something he did not; he had his best people follow her that day and watch all of the people in that theatre every minute of every day since and still not a trace of her. What was her plan? What was her end game? What sort of person could afford to sign over GD40,000 to a bastard half-brother at the end of the world without batting an eyelash? She must have more money somewhere, but where? Or powerful friends? But no powerful friends would encourage a girl to simply give away such an absurd amount of wealth. He had seen the play performed many times since then and had a seat constantly booked which meant sending one of his assistants to the theatre every day to buy a ticket and sit in a seat, saving it for him and waiting for him to arrive. Every clerk in the bank had seen the play by now, at first he had seen it as an entertainment, perhaps the girl was naive enough to believe she could live solely off the royalties of her writing, for playwright she was there was no doubt in his mind about that. When he asked her this on that fateful Monday morning that would forever be ingrained in his memory she merely smiled and said "But Mr Nestoris the true payment for a playwright is to see their words performed and come to life, it would lessen the value of the play if I were to ask Izembaro for a cut of the profits; of either the play or the manuscripts he prints." Bankers, successful bankers, instinctively trust only about a third of what they are told but he had seen truth in this statement, his investigators had looked and looked, plyed Izembaro with copious amounts of wine and he had trustworthy people in the theatre keeping their eyes and ears open and to date he had no reason to doubt her words. 

"What is your end game Sansa Stark?" He had asked her as she signed her name to the papers which accepted that Sandor Clegane had given her complete control over his bank accounts of which there had been many. Apparently the man had trusted money he could hold in his hands but also trusted the inconspicuous, easy to carry bits of vellum that the iron bank gave to owners of bank accounts. Was Clegane alive or dead? He imagined dead, otherwise he would not let this chit of a girl give away his life savings and Tourney winnings to a boy at the other side of the world though that Act had not yet been written into the play and he was eager to see it.

"My end game, Mr Nestoris?" She had asked.

"A Braavosi term we bankers are fond of. You must set your sights on your goal and let nothing make you stray from that path until you reach your goal, so what is your end game? What are your goals?" Did she want to be a queen like every other person in Westeros? Her brother had disowned her in his will so legally she had no claim to Robb Stark's crown though that had been an attempt on his part to stop said crown from falling into Lannister hands it surely would not apply now and she could, if she wished return now to claim her family's lands, the heiress to two great houses, she could do great things. She could even align herself to the Dragon Queen, two young women with dead older brothers and seats they could claim, it would be a powerful and profitable alliance. She looked down at her hands as she smoothed down her skirt.

"I want to tell the truth, the whole truth. I couldn't give Sandor Clegane, my father, my mother and brothers or any of the thousands of Northerners and Riverlands people who died any headstones or honour them the way they deserved but I can tell the truth of how and why they died and once I've told it it cannot be destroyed are killed the way so many other things were, it will spread and once heard people will carry that truth with them for a lifetime and even if they don't believe it, even if they have no faith in it and believe all the lies and propaganda atleast I gave them a chance. That's my end game Mr Nestoris." He stared at her for a few long minutes in silence, not sure what to say to this.

"I had the pleasure of meeting your mother once Princess Sansa." He had refrained from addressing her by her title since she had arrived; her father had been a Lord but stripped of his title and Lands by King Joffrey, her brother had been a King but disowned her so she wasn't a Lady and she wasn't a Princess by the laws of her own land. Usually politeness alone would have made him address her by one of the titles as soon as he had met her but there was something about her simple dress and dignified behavior which made him want to press her to see what she was made of.

"Oh?" She had raised an eyebrow at his use of the word princess but made no comment on it

"In my youth, before Robert's Rebellion I toured some of Westeros in the capacity of representative of the Iron Bank and had the pleasure of being a guest in Riverrun; your Grandfather's family seat." She looked a little sad at this information but showed eagerness to know more, she was not so naive that she would remain chatting after their business was concluded but did show some eagerness to know more. "Your mother did me the honour of dancing with me, had you not the marks on your back and these papers to prove your identity then I believe I still would have recognized you as her daughter, the resemblance is striking." She nodded sadly at this statement.

"Did you meet Petyr Baelish while you were there? He was fostered to my Granfather's family for some time." 

"Yes I saw him there, though I believe he left shortly after."

"He dishonoured my Mother." There was a lot of fury behind the statement and at the same time she was holding her emotions in check.

"I'm sure if that was the case your grandfather would have done something." Tycho knew the story, many did though Hoster Tully had tried hard to cover it up, a lady's reputation can be damaged so easily and having a young man who had lived in her home for so many years challenge her fiancé to a duel meant that many speculated about the honourable Lady Catelyn. "He was just a weedy little boy with a crush while she was a young Lady, I remember hearing about the duel afterwards and I knew it was just his fantasy, there was no obvious affection or encouragement from her side." He said kindly but he had a feeling she had more to say.

"He told people, people in King's Landing, when he had been drinking, obviously out of my Father's ear shot that he had had both of the Tully girl's maidenheads, he boasted about it and now she's dead and I can never ask her if there was any truth to it. Not that I would care, I am Eddard Stark's daughter there's no denying that but for some reason my Father trusted him, trusted him in the throne room that day and Baelish held a knife to my Father's throat and paid the Gold Cloaks who killed all of my Father's men." The words were heavy in the air, he had always known Baelish was a little slime ball though he was a competent accountant but he had not known all of this.

"If you think he did that to get back at your mother somehow or your Father for a slight committed nearly twenty years earlier then I know not how to council you." Though her information made his stomach turn he saw a smile spread across her face.

"Ships are even now sailing to Westeros and The Vale carrying copies of my manuscripts with the new Act where the destitute grieving princesses and Sandor Clegane stare at an empty future after the Red Wedding, where Sandor Clegane reveals to them the entirety of their Father's downfall and why the last place they would be safe, the only place in the Seven Kingdoms untouched by war yet containing kin of their own blood is the most hazardous place for them to travel. Petyr Baelish has married my Aunt Lysa and been proclaimed Lord Protector of the Vale. The Lords of the Vale fought in Robert's Rebellion alongside my Father, they will be free to make up their own minds about what they think of this man the Lannisters have put in charge of them. Lysa's infatuation with him was the reason they never answered the Young Wolf's call, no doubt they will do nothing and quietly accept his rule over them as they accepted hers but I can live in hope that at least the happy couple will not enjoy their honeymoon for very long." She seemed saddened by her words but she still stood and shook Tycho's hand as was the Braavosi custom, he knew in Westeros ladies would never dream of shaking a man's hand and especially not bankers which the snobbish would view as being akin to tradesmen. There were many tell tale signs that showed him she had been living in Braavos and learning its customs for some time not the least of which was the fact that he was sure she understood every word he spoke in Braavosi to his assistant earlier.

"So your end game is revenge against those who hurt your family?" He asked unwilling to let this go.

"No, my purpose here would be to warn Lysa and The Lords Declarant about the sort of man who is step father to my cousin, their lives, if not their fortunes may be in danger and forewarned is forearmed, after all Baelish did not make all of his money from whore houses I'm sure you know much of his wealth came from creative accounting when he was Master of the Coin." She said flippantly.

"Yes it always amazed me that-" He stopped himself too late and looked into those innocent blue eyes, now bright with triumph, "How did you know he was cooking the books?"

"I suspected but you just confirmed, my father was trying to cut down expenditure and was trying to go through the kingdom's finances before he was arrested, I think Baelish had many motives for what he did And the timing of it." 

She had then left the Iron Bank shaking his hand, the two officials and the two clerks who had overseen the exchange leaving Tycho feeling totally bewildered and frustrated. She must have been here when Stannis was here, why had she not approached them then? He would have felt much better about backing Stannis's claim if he had had Stark support and money. But she didn't want money, didn't want power, her hands had been the calloused hands of someone who works hard, scrubbing floors or something similar, she was born to wear silk and eat meat at every meal, why choose to live in so impoverished a way. He had heard about the Mother's Hymn, everyone had but he rejected that idea, she did not strike him as the type to cast off her earthly goods in favour of joining some religious order. Besides when those religious orders told you to give up your earthly possessions they usually meant give them up to us. She never did answer his question about what her end game was though instead she had cleverly deflected the question and gotten information of her own on Baelish.

Back in the present Tycho listened to Mace Tyrell talk on and on about some wine he had that he wanted to share, Tycho never drank when he worked and distrusted those who did. He wondered if this bumbling oaf routine was an act meant to catch him off his guard but as the minutes passed he realized that the man really was as foolish as he seemed. They were owed so much money by the Lannisters and the Throne and now this oaf was Master of Coin, if they were any other financial institution he would cut them off and send the bailiffs in. One of his clerks approached with some urgent papers to sign and he had a moment where Mace's attention went to one of the Lannister guards instead.

"Trant we must get some of the crates of wine delivered to Tycho's offices, arrange transport when we get back to the manse." The bank was never quiet, there were always scribes working away at their ledgers and customers talking to clerks through little grated windows but a slight hush did spread across the room at the mention of Trant and he was sure he saw a few customers as well as clerks making ready to leave as he passed through the ground floor and went to the main office. 

********

The Assassin waited outside the Iron Bank for what felt like hours, business had picked up in the mean time as the square had filled with people and many had purchased her oysters as she watched the entrance. The square was often busy with people going to and fro as they went about their busy lives but today there seemed to be a lot of people just standing around. It didn't matter, she didn't plan to kill him here; her training said you had to learn about your quarry before you made a plan to kill them which she intended to do. Today she would only watch and observe him, tomorrow he would die.

Finally after what felt like hours the fat man and his entourage of guards which included Meryn Trant left the bank, immediately a silence spread across the square that Arya noticed but the fat man did not as he began to sing boisterously, he had a good voice but was soon interrupted by a smart looking man in an expensive looking cloak

"Excuse me," he said and Mace turned in surprise at the young man who had interrupted his song, to his surprise the young man was not addressing him but his guard, what curious manners they had in Braavos! "Have I the pleasure of addressing Ser Meryn Trant of King's Landing." Mace looked at Meryn in bewilderment, if Meryn wanted to socialize he should do it on his own time, not on the crown's.

"I am but I don't know what business I have with you." Meryn replied contemptuously.

"Ah, I am very pleased to meet you Ser Meryn Trant of the King's Guard" he said loudly so everyone in the silent square could hear. It was one of those well built places where a voice could carry all the way across it so public announcements could be made to hundreds of people at a time however no politician or religious speaker had ever had such undivided attention from so many as this speaker had in this square right now. The man pointed to a fine scar on his right cheek; "I was cut ten years ago by a sword fighter called Syrio Forel, as you can see he scarred me for life and beat me for the title of First Sword of Braavos, a title which he won several times. I understand that you are the knight who killed him." Across the square a young girl selling oysters had frozen in place, all she could do was watch.

"I'm not sure I recall, I've killed many men in the service of the Kingdom." Meryn answered with a frown as he looked the man up and down.

"Ah I think you will remember this man," He shrugged open his cloak to reveal the colorful garb underneath, "He would have worn dress like mine and he was teaching Arya Stark the sword when you tried to take her to the King, he was the one who told her to run and the reason she escaped capture by the Lannisters."

Mace stared in bewilderment at this exchange, Arya Stark had run away? No, she had been married to Ramsey Snow and gone back to Winterfell, everyone knew that. "Meryn we should be going, you can catch up with your friend later." Mace tried to be diplomatic but even he felt that there was a strange mood to the conversation. As they pushed past the man and carried on about their business Meryn suddenly stopped and smiled.

"Oh I remember, the idiot had a wooden sword and took me and two other soldiers on who were all armed with real swords, at the same time. He was a right twat."

Silence can be loud, can even be described as deafening, the silence that filled the square then lasted for half a minute but it caused a sweat to break out on every man in that group, Mace was looking decidedly uncomfortable and could now see that the exits from the square were blocked and that many people had shrugged off their plain outer cloaks to reveal their extremely colorful dress underneath. somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered being told about the Braavosi Water Dancers that roam the city at night and challenge each other to duels, more for the chance to practice and hone their craft then the desire to inflict damage or injury. They were known to be very civilized, opponents often becoming best friends after a particularly good fight, which always ended when one of them called 'first blood' and managed to cut the other, a small nick or a big gash it made no difference. Mace could see that Meryn's confession and attitude had been received badly by all who heard it. The square was now full of onlookers standing to attention with their hands on their undrawn swords, he looked around helplessly for his friend Nestoris who stood on the steps of the Iron Bank watching the exchange along with all of his clerks, he had a calmness about his demeanor which put Mace at ease. Surely if the bank official was calm then he; Warden of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Master of Coin, Master of Ships and Goodfather to King Tommen, surely he of all people would not have to worry.

"I'm glad you killed him," the young Braavosi said with with his lilting accent, "and I'm glad you have confessed, this man had the honour of calling Syrio Forel his friend and mentor, this man would like to challenge you to a duel." With that he drew his sword and the Mace was surprised by the blatant arrogance of this man. 

"Leave this to me lads." Meryn told the other guards, he was confident in his belief that he would win as his opponent had a sword but no armour, his lithe frame was covered in nothing but clothing with no armour of an kind, Meryn stood a formidable presence with his breast plate, chain mail and long sword by comparison. Meryn drew his sword and motioned for the other guards to stand back, he obviously had no fears about facing the little man. A place was cleared for them in the center of the square, there was no cheering, no sound of any kind from the onlookers as they watched the two fight, the did not clash swords. The Braavosi was too swift, he mostly hit Meryn with the flat of his sword; across the backs of the knees, the face, the exposed hands, he drew no blood but showed in swift dance like movements how elegantly he could dance around the bigger, slower man. Meryn had depended on his long sword too much, he was not used to having tomove around so Moche would swing his sword only to meet empty air as his opponent moved in for another painful "whack" that reverberated around the square. Finally as sweat was running down Meryn's face and his movements became slower the lung Braavosi gave him a small nick to his cheek and yelled "First Blood" it was such a small cut that it seemed rather a silly thing to be proud of but the young Braavosi backed away into the crowd afterwards as if that had been all he had wanted. Mace looked around and wondered what sort of madness he had just seen but just as he was about to tell the guards they should move on another g man stepped forward.

"I am Antonio Veros, Syrio Forel taught me the sword for three years, I challenge you to a duel." This went much the same as the first, Meryn came close a few times but inevitably received a similar nick to his other cheek, angry now Meryn tried to go after the young man who was returning to the crowd of watching faces only to be instantly stopped by a handsome woman in her early thirties. 

"I am Ferrina Vedicci, Syrio Forel was my teacher for four years, I challenge you to a duel." He tried to push her off, he tried to signal to his fellow guards to help him and to intervene but then he saw the archers and the knife at Mace's throat.

"We have no quarrel with you fat man," the person holding the knife to Mace's throat had a mask on and a calmness to his voice that was thoroughly unnerving. "We are just here to see it is a fair fight. Make no move to help him or stop us and you will leave here unharmed." Mace looked to his guards who had let this miscreant greater him while they were distracted by the spectacle before them and for the fist time wondered if they were very good guards and if he wouldn't have been happier with more yards from HighGarden. Helplessly he was forced to watch as cut after cut was delivered to Meryn's face, there were archers with their arrows trained on his men and none of the men seemed to have any loyalty for Trant as they stood there and watched as people came forward. 

"Imbozo Kaden-"

"Headen Kaden-"

"Mario Louis-"

They each introduced themselves before stating how they knew the dead man, one had been trained by him, others with him, still others were trained by former students, many had fought him and all had seen hm fight at some stage. There was a quiet triumphant dignity to them as they stepped forward, one by one in an orderly fashion to make their challenge,he had seen people in the holy sept step forward to give alms with looks of less religious zealousness on their faces. For somehow that is what this felt like; a religious service. 

On and on it went until his face was a mass of cuts and drenched in so much blood he could not breath, he kneeled in the square, blinded by his blood, choking on his blood and still they came. They cut him wherever they could; his face, his neck, his hands, any bit of exposed skin. Mace had tears drying on his face after the first hour and by the second hour he could not understand why the city watch did not intervene, this was murder, the strangest murder he had ever heard of but murder none the less. He turned around to look for Tycho, careful of the blade still at his throat to see Tycho still watching with an interested pensive look on his face. 

Death by a thousand cuts, that's what killed him, there is only so much pain a person can suffer through, none of the attackers shows any mercy but some grimaced in disgust when it was their turn to step up. Their disgust did not deter them and they all took their vengeance. Finally after four hours the ody, messy, shit and urine stained man who had been wheezing for breath for what had felt like an eternity finally died. It was slow and painful.

Mace Tyrell and his remaining men went as fast as they could back to their ship and set sail as soon as they could, the captain complained but Mace was determined so they set sail on the next high tide. Mace did not sing for the whole journey which the guards would have seen as a blessing but ow missed the distraction.

In the square the girl selling oysters wept until it was done, it did not occur to Mace or any of his men to try and bring the mutilated body of Meryn Trant with them, it was left in the square where it had fallen and looked on by those who felt justice had been done for a son of Braavos. The Assassin wheeled her cart back to the yard where she left it every night before returning to the House of Black and White. It was more crowded than usual and she was sure she had never seen so many brothers and sisters of the Many Faced God there at the same time. They must have heard what happened and probably seen it for themselves. It was hard to read a lot of them at the best of times but by the pool in the center of the temple she saw her true sister in her novice's garb standing with Jaquen and a worried frown on her brow. She didn't see why Sansa should be in trouble, it wasn't as if she had wielded any knife or had any part in the actual killing.


	5. Sparrows and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My interpretation of S06 E02, you should watch the YouTube video of the deleted scen with Mace and Olenna, I've copied it out as accurately as I could but it is a mystery to me why they edited out this scene; Diana Rigg is amazing and should have got an Oscar for her performance. They really edit out the best scenes like Tywin and his honest conversation with Pycelle in the second or third season and instead give us scenes where the characters brood and stare into the distance for ridiculously long periods of time, anyway that's my rant. Please enjoy!

In King's Landing the newly appointed HighSparrow considered the sinner in front of him. When he openned his little soup kitchen and started tending the poor of King's Landing he had found an alarming number of people who now starved and hungered in the city had not started as beggars in need of spiritual saving; the majority had been people who had worked their whole lives; had had farms, homes, families and trades until the war had ravaged the land. He had performed the last rights on so many young girls, so many it had broken his heart, that had been raped by Lannister soldiers, sell swords and others. Some of them, too many of them, had been forced to prostitute themselves for crusts of bread or warm beds for the night, fathers and mothers had sold these girls not for profit but for survival in the form of the simplest things like a loaf of bread. Good people who had been denied enough meals had resorted to the most desperate of trades. It broke his heart to deliver their babies into this harsh cruel world, their fathers could be any of a number of men they lay with every night, not because they were bad girls as the church had often taught but because hunger and desperation drive many to desperate acts. He tried not to be angry because anger was a wasted emotion and served no purpose when one served the seven but it was hard. Queen Cersei had approached him a few weeks ago; brave of her really to walk among the people whose lives she had ruined with her depravity and lustfulness. She thought his politeness to her meant that she had an ally in him, she thought that she was manipulating and controlling him as she had controlled so many men with her golden hair and beautiful smiles. She thought she could use him to control her good daughter and her family. He tried not to stare at her expensive jewels and silks and treat her with the contempt she deserved. He refrained from telling her that he had been in the crowd that day, the day her beloved son had publically whipped and beaten one of the most courageous and devout young women he had ever had the honour of seeing.

He himself though he advised people not to be angry and not to retaliate had been among those who sang the song In the nights that followed. They had sung the song night after night with people who were unarmed and went to the palace to sing for the young girl recuperating from her ordeal; the Maiden incarnate many called her and he agreed. He had been at the gates of the palace and seen the boy king, her golden son, fire crossbows into the crowd of people singing the hymn, those dark nights had become known as The Hymn Riots. They had not been planned by any one person but they had been an inevitable result of all that the forgotten of the city had suffered. Hunger causes a sort of madness but the mad are not necessarily stupid. The young King ordered the immediate death of anyone heard singing the mother's hymn, it was now outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms because the boy could not bare to hear it anymore. A foolish proclamation if ever there was one, the people who lived in King's Landing were desperate and going to war again and they were angry, anger alone was not enough of a reason but when the gold cloaks in their shiney armour had started patrolling the streets and raiding homes for a lullaby then true madness began to grip the citizens. In a strange sort of way Sansa Stark had avenged her Father's men by instigating the deaths of what was quite possibly all of the gold cloaks who participated in his arrest, though he seriously doubted she had premeditated such a reaction that day. They had set up barricades around the city, they had lured and trapped the guards and afterwards their dead bodies were left around the palace as a warning; 'we may not be an army but we are many and you are few'.

It went on like that for months, servants inside the castle reported that Lady Sansa was still recovering but occasionally Joffrey would summon her to the throne room and have her beaten for her brother's crimes while her betrothed pointed the same crossbow he used to kill peasants at her. All the nobles did nothing. They watched and the people of King's Landing killed night after night the only nobles they could get their hands on. It was a wretched time where a sort of madness took hold of everyone in the capital, Stannis was not loved before but when he set up a block around King's Landing that prevented food and supplies from reaching them then he was truly hated; another highborn King who cared not a bit for the sufferings of his alleged people. King's Landing was sick of Kings. 

The imp had come then and tried to alleviate things, he stopped the patrols that were being ambushed and set up a paid guard from men inside the city, not men in shiney armour that made themselves targets. He accepted that some fights like the fight for the streets simply weren't worth fighting, not with a royal fleet knocking at the door and so many claimants to the throne. For a time it seemed that the Hymn Riots were over but the worst was yet to come. The fools brought Lady Sansa to the harbour to watch Princess Myrcella sail for Dorne, she looked pale and drawn, the dress she wore was ill fitting and adorned in Lannister colors and she obviously found it difficult to walk after her last beating for some battle her Kingly brother had won (another King who only cared for his own interests it seemed). He had gone to the harbour that day to see her, he very much doubted that she would notice him or understand the kind look which he tried to convey to her but he had to try. Somewhere in the crowd someone started singing, his voice joined their's; after all it was a hymn nearly as old as the Faith of the Seven itself, they had every right to sing it No matter what some jumped up little snot said. What ensued would haunt him forever, they had tried to show her their support and instead the young King had instigated a riot with his blasphemous shouting and demands for their deaths, he tried to keep an eye on her but lost her in the throng, many women were raped and the High Septon was literally torn to pieces and the poor girl instead of being rescued from her tormentors was returned to them and now lived in more fear of the public who had only meant to help her, had he known she was going to be at the docks that day he would have had a plan ready for her escape but as it was he had been unprepared and the rescue attempt had been as much of a rape attempt as anything.

Now Margeary Tyrell sat in a cell wearing a plain linen dress and her hair was simply brushed and unadorned, her brother sat by her side as the two enjoyed a simple broth, the same broth he fed the poor as he sat and told them the entirety of what had happened that day and the subsequent days and they listened with rapt attention.

"-So you see Queen Margeary; Cersei Lannister is dangerous as well as mad, it would not do to leave you in the Keep with her while she is out for your blood, I could not protect Sansa Stark from those monsters but I can protect you, I see from your eyes that you think this an odd way to protect a queen, a queen should not be in fear of her mother in law or her power but I lived through one innocent highborn maid being tortured in that Keep and was helpless outside the walls as they did unspeakable things to her, her own Septa's head was put on a spike and she along with the rest of the city were forced to look upon it, it still wore the habit that all Septa's wear and no one did anything, all those highborn nobles stood back and watched as she was stripped and beaten by the King's guard while Joffrey pointed a crossbow at her and boasted about how many of the revolting peasants he had killed with that same bow. 

"Your Father is gone and your Grandmother also, you were as unprotected as Lady Sansa was but you and your brother are safe here, safe because Cersei believes you are being made to suffer as she wishes, when your Father and his men return to the capital then there shall be a reckoning and she will-she must be held accountable for her crimes." Queen Margeary nibbled at the chicken broth she had been given and nodded in agreement with the HighSparrow. What choice had she? They had treated her very well after the initial arrest and only seemed content to preach to her about the great works of the Seven and the great sufferings of Lady Sansa. She had not realised Cersei would be so vindictive or so stupid as to give this little man and his church such power but now that Cersei had shown her true hand Margeary felt free to show her's and they would truly make that whore pay.

*******

Mace arrived back in King's Landing having lost a few pounds and gained a few grey hairs. They had left Braavos in such haste that the ship's food stores had not been properly replenished so it had been two weeks of careful rationing. The captain had advised him not to be seen to be eating more than his fair share as mutinies had been known to happen when food was not plentiful and some were seen as getting more than others. Mace had agreed without argument, he thought people capable of anything now after all he had witnessed. He just wanted to go home, not King's Landing but home to HighGarden, they never should have gotten involved in this bloody war or with that cursed family, Baratheon or Lannister they were all cursed, he had read the play on the ship, they all had, he'd heard some of the literate sailors reading it aloud to those who could not read and had no shame in admitting there had been tears in his eyes at some of the passages in it. Of course he had heard about the atrocities committed at Harrenhall but to hear what sounded like a first hand account of the 'Tickler' and his friends, if the tale was true then Arya Stark had been ten years old while she waited in a pen, hemmed in with others younger and older than herself as they waited for the questions. He closed his eyes at the memory of the voices the sailors had put on when reading that bit. "Is there gold in the village, jewels? Where is Lord Beric? Who was working with the Brotherhood?-"The whole thing was utterly disgusting, he had shared wine with Tywin Lannister and broken bread with him while all the time that man had allowed and encouraged- it didn't bare thinking about, if he could he would take his whole family and get away from this cursed, bankrupt, incestuous city. 

He was met at the docks by flags baring the seal of the seven which was unusual, they should have the Baratheon flag but no matter, he had other worries, he immediately went to his mother, a copy of the fateful play under his robes. He thought he would be giving her shocking news that would make her head spin but instead he was greeted by the news that Margeary and Loras had been imprisoned and the Faith of the Seven had absolute power. Later he sat in the box carriage with his Mother who filled him in on what he had missed as they were being carried around the city by deaf servants, it was the best way to ensure that they were not overheard.

"So you thought Cersei Lannister had sent you to Iron Bank to negotiate? You-" there was a hint of contempt in the way she spoke.

Mace flustered a while before saying "As Master of Coin it seemed only natural-" he began to say before she spoke over him.

"Cersei Lannister sent you to Braavos to keep you out of the way and she sent the bloody King's Guard to make certain you stayed there." Olenna was hurting in a way she never thought she could, her poor boy, had she not been there then she would doubt if he was actually her son but though she knew he was simple minded at times he was her son all the same. The box moved on as she fought back the tears she refused to shed. "So out of her way you stayed; eating, drinking, singing- while your own children were being rounded up by-" He could not let her say that without intervening.

"That is an entirely unfair accusation, I did not even stay the night in that dangerous city of mad men." He interrupted, she considered his sunken eyes and embroidered jacket; though it had been made for him it was hanging off him a bit to show the strain he had been under during his journey home and the affects the rationing onboard the ship had had on his ample fat supplies.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there was no singing." She answered in a slightly softer voice. He did not insult her intelligence by trying and instead looked shamed lay at his feet.

"Mother I have seen men die, I've seen men being killed in duels and in war but what happened in Braavos- they didn't care about me or any of the guards I had with me, they didn't kill as a group they just patiently, methodically took turns in....in shredding him to pieces. It scared me, it scared me more than anything I have ever witnessed, I was nothing to them, absolutely nothing. All they cared about was that man; Syrio Forel; they each spoke his name like it was a prayer, no one not even Cersei when her son and her Father were killed by Tyrion has ever shown such.." he stared out of the window as he tried to find the word devotion? Zealousness? "Peace in another man's suffering." Olenna sat back and considered him as she thumbed the manuscript on her lap, he had come straight to her when his ship had docked and sent the King's Guard to explain themselves to Cersei.

"Well it won't happen again, Kevan Lannister has asked me to attend the small council meeting." There was a small amount of pride in her voice, Tywin had raised a thoroughly stupid daughter but he had left his intelligent brother in a position of power, thank the Gods for small mercies and she knew there was little love lost between the two.

"He has?" Mace asked as his face lit up.

"He has." She said with a note of pride that was reflected in Mace's own smile.

"So does this mean you will be Master of Coin?" Mace asked with a note of hope in his voice, her poor boy; he really wasn't cut out for all of this.

"It means I am Mistress of getting my grandchildren out of bloody prison." She replied definitavely.

"We want the same thing." Mace spoke like a lost little boy seeking his mother's guidance. "I worry about them every day and every night."

Her tone softened as she answered his unspoken plea to fix this and make it better. "We will get them out and then we will leave this cursed place and leave the sparrows and the Lannisters to rip each other to pieces." As the box carriage was carried along the streets she looked down at the play and began to read, for a fantastical example of propaganda driven fluff it was actually well written, from what she could remember of the Shakespearean tragedies this was definitely written by someone who had studied them.

 

 

In King's Landing the newly appointed HighSparrow considered the sinner in front of him. When he openned his little soup kitchen and started tending the poor of King's Landing he had found an alarming number of people who now starved and hungered in the city had not started as beggars in need of spiritual saving; the majority had been people who had worked their whole lives; had had farms, homes, families and trades until the war had ravaged the land. He had performed the last rights on so many young girls, so many it had broken his heart, that had been raped by Lannister soldiers, sell swords and others. Some of them, too many of them, had been forced to prostitute themselves for crusts of bread or warm beds for the night, fathers and mothers had sold these girls not for profit but for survival in the form of the simplest things like a loaf of bread. Good people who had been denied enough meals had resorted to the most desperate of trades. It broke his heart to deliver their babies into this harsh cruel world, their fathers could be any of a number of men they lay with every night, not because they were bad girls as the church had often taught but because hunger and desperation drive many to desperate acts. He tried not to be angry because anger was a wasted emotion and served no purpose when one served the seven but it was hard. Queen Cersei had approached him a few weeks ago; brave of her really to walk among the people whose lives she had ruined with her depravity and lustfulness. She thought his politeness to her meant that she had an ally in him, she thought that she was manipulating and controlling him as she had controlled so many men with her golden hair and beautiful smiles. She thought she could use him to control her good daughter and her family. He tried not to stare at her expensive jewels and silks and treat her with the contempt she deserved. He refrained from telling her that he had been in the crowd that day, the day her beloved son had publically whipped and beaten one of the most courageous and devout young women he had ever had the honour of seeing.

He himself though he advised people not to be angry and not to retaliate had been among those who sang the song In the nights that followed. They had sung the song night after night with people who were unarmed and went to the palace to sing for the young girl recuperating from her ordeal; the Maiden incarnate many called her and he agreed. He had been at the gates of the palace and seen the boy king, her golden son, fire crossbows into the crowd of people singing the hymn, those dark nights had become known as The Hymn Riots. They had not been planned by any one person but they had been an inevitable result of all that the forgotten of the city had suffered. Hunger causes a sort of madness but the mad are not necessarily stupid. The young King ordered the immediate death of anyone heard singing the mother's hymn, it was now outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms because the boy could not bare to hear it anymore. A foolish proclamation if ever there was one, the people who lived in King's Landing were desperate and going to war again and they were angry, anger alone was not enough of a reason but when the gold cloaks in their shiney armour had started patrolling the streets and raiding homes for a lullaby then true madness began to grip the citizens. In a strange sort of way Sansa Stark had avenged her Father's men by instigating the deaths of what was quite possibly all of the gold cloaks who participated in his arrest, though he seriously doubted she had premeditated such a reaction that day. They had set up barricades around the city, they had lured and trapped the guards and afterwards their dead bodies were left around the palace as a warning; 'we may not be an army but we are many and you are few'.

It went on like that for months, servants inside the castle reported that Lady Sansa was still recovering but occasionally Joffrey would summon her to the throne room and have her beaten for her brother's crimes while her betrothed pointed the same crossbow he used to kill peasants at her. All the nobles did nothing. They watched and the people of King's Landing killed night after night the only nobles they could get their hands on. It was a wretched time where a sort of madness took hold of everyone in the capital, Stannis was not loved before but when he set up a block around King's Landing that prevented food and supplies from reaching them then he was truly hated; another highborn King who cared not a bit for the sufferings of his alleged people. King's Landing was sick of Kings. 

The imp had come then and tried to alleviate things, he stopped the patrols that were being ambushed and set up a paid guard from men inside the city, not men in shiney armour that made themselves targets. He accepted that some fights like the fight for the streets simply weren't worth fighting, not with a royal fleet knocking at the door and so many claimants to the throne. For a time it seemed that the Hymn Riots were over but the worst was yet to come. The fools brought Lady Sansa to the harbour to watch Princess Myrcella sail for Dorne, she looked pale and drawn, the dress she wore was ill fitting and adorned in Lannister colors and she obviously found it difficult to walk after her last beating for some battle her Kingly brother had won (another King who only cared for his own interests it seemed). He had gone to the harbour that day to see her, he very much doubted that she would notice him or understand the kind look which he tried to convey to her but he had to try. Somewhere in the crowd someone started singing, his voice joined their's; after all it was a hymn nearly as old as the Faith of the Seven itself, they had every right to sing it No matter what some jumped up little snot said. What ensued would haunt him forever, they had tried to show her their support and instead the young King had instigated a riot with his blasphemous shouting and demands for their deaths, he tried to keep an eye on her but lost her in the throng, many women were raped and the High Septon was literally torn to pieces and the poor girl instead of being rescued from her tormentors was returned to them and now lived in more fear of the public who had only meant to help her, had he known she was going to be at the docks that day he would have had a plan ready for her escape but as it was he had been unprepared and the rescue attempt had been as much of a rape attempt as anything.

Now Margeary Tyrell sat in a cell wearing a plain linen dress and her hair was simply brushed and unadorned, her brother sat by her side as the two enjoyed a simple broth, the same broth he fed the poor as he sat and told them the entirety of what had happened that day and the subsequent days and they listened with rapt attention.

"-So you see Queen Margeary; Cersei Lannister is dangerous as well as mad, it would not do to leave you in the Keep with her while she is out for your blood, I could not protect Sansa Stark from those monsters but I can protect you, I see from your eyes that you think this an odd way to protect a queen, a queen should not be in fear of her mother in law or her power but I lived through one innocent highborn maid being tortured in that Keep and was helpless outside the walls as they did unspeakable things to her, her own Septa's head was put on a spike and she along with the rest of the city were forced to look upon it, it still wore the habit that all Septa's wear and no one did anything, all those highborn nobles stood back and watched as she was stripped and beaten by the King's guard while Joffrey pointed a crossbow at her and boasted about how many of the revolting peasants he had killed with that same bow. 

"Your Father is gone and your Grandmother also, you were as unprotected as Lady Sansa was but you and your brother are safe here, safe because Cersei believes you are being made to suffer as she wishes, when your Father and his men return to the capital then there shall be a reckoning and she will-she must be held accountable for her crimes." Queen Margeary nibbled at the chicken broth she had been given and nodded in agreement with the HighSparrow. What choice had she? They had treated her very well after the initial arrest and only seemed content to preach to her about the great works of the Seven and the great sufferings of Lady Sansa. She had not realised Cersei would be so vindictive or so stupid as to give this little man and his church such power but now that Cersei had shown her true hand Margeary felt free to show her's and they would truly make that whore pay.

*******

Mace arrived back in King's Landing having lost a few pounds and gained a few grey hairs. They had left Braavos in such haste that the ship's food stores had not been properly replenished so it had been two weeks of careful rationing. The captain had advised him not to be seen to be eating more than his fair share as mutinies had been known to happen when food was not plentiful and some were seen as getting more than others. Mace had agreed without argument, he thought people capable of anything now after all he had witnessed. He just wanted to go home, not King's Landing but home to HighGarden, they never should have gotten involved in this bloody war or with that cursed family, Baratheon or Lannister they were all cursed, he had read the play on the ship, they all had, he'd heard some of the literate sailors reading it aloud to those who could not read and had no shame in admitting there had been tears in his eyes at some of the passages in it. Of course he had heard about the atrocities committed at Harrenhall but to hear what sounded like a first hand account of the 'Tickler' and his friends, if the tale was true then Arya Stark had been ten years old while she waited in a pen, hemmed in with others younger and older than herself as they waited for the questions. He closed his eyes at the memory of the voices the sailors had put on when reading that bit. "Is there gold in the village, jewels? Where is Lord Beric? Who was working with the Brotherhood?-"The whole thing was utterly disgusting, he had shared wine with Tywin Lannister and broken bread with him while all the time that man had allowed and encouraged- it didn't bare thinking about, if he could he would take his whole family and get away from this cursed, bankrupt, incestuous city. 

He was met at the docks by flags baring the seal of the seven which was unusual, they should have the Baratheon flag but no matter, he had other worries, he immediately went to his mother, a copy of the fateful play under his robes. He thought he would be giving her shocking news that would make her head spin but instead he was greeted by the news that Margeary and Loras had been imprisoned and the Faith of the Seven had absolute power. Later he sat in the box carriage with his Mother who filled him in on what he had missed as they were being carried around the city by deaf servants, it was the best way to ensure that they were not overheard.

"So you thought Cersei Lannister had sent you to Iron Bank to negotiate? You-" there was a hint of contempt in the way she spoke.

Mace flustered a while before saying "As Master of Coin it seemed only natural-" he began to say before she spoke over him.

"Cersei Lannister sent you to Braavos to keep you out of the way and she sent the bloody King's Guard to make certain you stayed there." Olenna was hurting in a way she never thought she could, her poor boy, had she not been there then she would doubt if he was actually her son but though she knew he was simple minded at times he was her son all the same. The box moved on as she fought back the tears she refused to shed. "So out of her way you stayed; eating, drinking, singing- while your own children were being rounded up by-" He could not let her say that without intervening.

"That is an entirely unfair accusation, I did not even stay the night in that dangerous city of mad men." He interrupted, she considered his sunken eyes and embroidered jacket; though it had been made for him it was hanging off him a bit to show the strain he had been under during his journey home and the affects the rationing onboard the ship had had on his ample fat supplies.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there was no singing." She answered in a slightly softer voice. He did not insult her intelligence by trying and instead looked shamed lay at his feet.

"Mother I have seen men die, I've seen men being killed in duels and in war but what happened in Braavos- they didn't care about me or any of the guards I had with me, they didn't kill as a group they just patiently, methodically took turns in....in shredding him to pieces. It scared me, it scared me more than anything I have ever witnessed, I was nothing to them, absolutely nothing. All they cared about was that man; Syrio Forel; they each spoke his name like it was a prayer, no one not even Cersei when her son and her Father were killed by Tyrion has ever shown such.." he stared out of the window as he tried to find the word devotion? Zealousness? "Peace in another man's suffering." Olenna sat back and considered him as she thumbed the manuscript on her lap, he had come straight to her when his ship had docked and sent the King's Guard to explain themselves to Cersei.

"Well it won't happen again, Kevan Lannister has asked me to attend the small council meeting." There was a small amount of pride in her voice, Tywin had raised a thoroughly stupid daughter but he had left his intelligent brother in a position of power, thank the Gods for small mercies and she knew there was little love lost between the two.

"He has?" Mace asked as his face lit up.

"He has." She said with a note of pride that was reflected in Mace's own smile.

"So does this mean you will be Master of Coin?" Mace asked with a note of hope in his voice, her poor boy; he really wasn't cut out for all of this.

"It means I am Mistress of getting my grandchildren out of bloody prison." She replied definitavely.

"We want the same thing." Mace spoke like a lost little boy seeking his mother's guidance. "I worry about them every day and every night."

Her tone softened as she answered his unspoken plea to fix this and make it better. "We will get them out and then we will leave this cursed place and leave the sparrows and the Lannisters to rip each other to pieces." As the box carriage was carried along the streets she looked down at the play and began to read, for a fantastical example of propaganda driven fluff it was actually well written, from what she could remember of the Shakespearean tragedies this was definitely written by someone who had studied them.

 

 

In King's Landing the newly appointed HighSparrow considered the sinner in front of him. When he openned his little soup kitchen and started tending the poor of King's Landing he had found an alarming number of people who now starved and hungered in the city had not started as beggars in need of spiritual saving; the majority had been people who had worked their whole lives; had had farms, homes, families and trades until the war had ravaged the land. He had performed the last rights on so many young girls, so many it had broken his heart, that had been raped by Lannister soldiers, sell swords and others. Some of them, too many of them, had been forced to prostitute themselves for crusts of bread or warm beds for the night, fathers and mothers had sold these girls not for profit but for survival in the form of the simplest things like a loaf of bread. Good people who had been denied enough meals had resorted to the most desperate of trades. It broke his heart to deliver their babies into this harsh cruel world, their fathers could be any of a number of men they lay with every night, not because they were bad girls as the church had often taught but because hunger and desperation drive many to desperate acts. He tried not to be angry because anger was a wasted emotion and served no purpose when one served the seven but it was hard. Queen Cersei had approached him a few weeks ago; brave of her really to walk among the people whose lives she had ruined with her depravity and lustfulness. She thought his politeness to her meant that she had an ally in him, she thought that she was manipulating and controlling him as she had controlled so many men with her golden hair and beautiful smiles. She thought she could use him to control her good daughter and her family. He tried not to stare at her expensive jewels and silks and treat her with the contempt she deserved. He refrained from telling her that he had been in the crowd that day, the day her beloved son had publically whipped and beaten one of the most courageous and devout young women he had ever had the honour of seeing.

He himself though he advised people not to be angry and not to retaliate had been among those who sang the song In the nights that followed. They had sung the song night after night with people who were unarmed and went to the palace to sing for the young girl recuperating from her ordeal; the Maiden incarnate many called her and he agreed. He had been at the gates of the palace and seen the boy king, her golden son, fire crossbows into the crowd of people singing the hymn, those dark nights had become known as The Hymn Riots. They had not been planned by any one person but they had been an inevitable result of all that the forgotten of the city had suffered. Hunger causes a sort of madness but the mad are not necessarily stupid. The young King ordered the immediate death of anyone heard singing the mother's hymn, it was now outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms because the boy could not bare to hear it anymore. A foolish proclamation if ever there was one, the people who lived in King's Landing were desperate and going to war again and they were angry, anger alone was not enough of a reason but when the gold cloaks in their shiney armour had started patrolling the streets and raiding homes for a lullaby then true madness began to grip the citizens. In a strange sort of way Sansa Stark had avenged her Father's men by instigating the deaths of what was quite possibly all of the gold cloaks who participated in his arrest, though he seriously doubted she had premeditated such a reaction that day. They had set up barricades around the city, they had lured and trapped the guards and afterwards their dead bodies were left around the palace as a warning; 'we may not be an army but we are many and you are few'.

It went on like that for months, servants inside the castle reported that Lady Sansa was still recovering but occasionally Joffrey would summon her to the throne room and have her beaten for her brother's crimes while her betrothed pointed the same crossbow he used to kill peasants at her. All the nobles did nothing. They watched and the people of King's Landing killed night after night the only nobles they could get their hands on. It was a wretched time where a sort of madness took hold of everyone in the capital, Stannis was not loved before but when he set up a block around King's Landing that prevented food and supplies from reaching them then he was truly hated; another highborn King who cared not a bit for the sufferings of his alleged people. King's Landing was sick of Kings. 

The imp had come then and tried to alleviate things, he stopped the patrols that were being ambushed and set up a paid guard from men inside the city, not men in shiney armour that made themselves targets. He accepted that some fights like the fight for the streets simply weren't worth fighting, not with a royal fleet knocking at the door and so many claimants to the throne. For a time it seemed that the Hymn Riots were over but the worst was yet to come. The fools brought Lady Sansa to the harbour to watch Princess Myrcella sail for Dorne, she looked pale and drawn, the dress she wore was ill fitting and adorned in Lannister colors and she obviously found it difficult to walk after her last beating for some battle her Kingly brother had won (another King who only cared for his own interests it seemed). He had gone to the harbour that day to see her, he very much doubted that she would notice him or understand the kind look which he tried to convey to her but he had to try. Somewhere in the crowd someone started singing, his voice joined their's; after all it was a hymn nearly as old as the Faith of the Seven itself, they had every right to sing it No matter what some jumped up little snot said. What ensued would haunt him forever, they had tried to show her their support and instead the young King had instigated a riot with his blasphemous shouting and demands for their deaths, he tried to keep an eye on her but lost her in the throng, many women were raped and the High Septon was literally torn to pieces and the poor girl instead of being rescued from her tormentors was returned to them and now lived in more fear of the public who had only meant to help her, had he known she was going to be at the docks that day he would have had a plan ready for her escape but as it was he had been unprepared and the rescue attempt had been as much of a rape attempt as anything.

Now Margeary Tyrell sat in a cell wearing a plain linen dress and her hair was simply brushed and unadorned, her brother sat by her side as the two enjoyed a simple broth, the same broth he fed the poor as he sat and told them the entirety of what had happened that day and the subsequent days and they listened with rapt attention.

"-So you see Queen Margeary; Cersei Lannister is dangerous as well as mad, it would not do to leave you in the Keep with her while she is out for your blood, I could not protect Sansa Stark from those monsters but I can protect you, I see from your eyes that you think this an odd way to protect a queen, a queen should not be in fear of her mother in law or her power but I lived through one innocent highborn maid being tortured in that Keep and was helpless outside the walls as they did unspeakable things to her, her own Septa's head was put on a spike and she along with the rest of the city were forced to look upon it, it still wore the habit that all Septa's wear and no one did anything, all those highborn nobles stood back and watched as she was stripped and beaten by the King's guard while Joffrey pointed a crossbow at her and boasted about how many of the revolting peasants he had killed with that same bow. 

"Your Father is gone and your Grandmother also, you were as unprotected as Lady Sansa was but you and your brother are safe here, safe because Cersei believes you are being made to suffer as she wishes, when your Father and his men return to the capital then there shall be a reckoning and she will-she must be held accountable for her crimes." Queen Margeary nibbled at the chicken broth she had been given and nodded in agreement with the HighSparrow. What choice had she? They had treated her very well after the initial arrest and only seemed content to preach to her about the great works of the Seven and the great sufferings of Lady Sansa. She had not realised Cersei would be so vindictive or so stupid as to give this little man and his church such power but now that Cersei had shown her true hand Margeary felt free to show her's and they would truly make that whore pay.

*******

Mace arrived back in King's Landing having lost a few pounds and gained a few grey hairs. They had left Braavos in such haste that the ship's food stores had not been properly replenished so it had been two weeks of careful rationing. The captain had advised him not to be seen to be eating more than his fair share as mutinies had been known to happen when food was not plentiful and some were seen as getting more than others. Mace had agreed without argument, he thought people capable of anything now after all he had witnessed. He just wanted to go home, not King's Landing but home to HighGarden, they never should have gotten involved in this bloody war or with that cursed family, Baratheon or Lannister they were all cursed, he had read the play on the ship, they all had, he'd heard some of the literate sailors reading it aloud to those who could not read and had no shame in admitting there had been tears in his eyes at some of the passages in it. Of course he had heard about the atrocities committed at Harrenhall but to hear what sounded like a first hand account of the 'Tickler' and his friends, if the tale was true then Arya Stark had been ten years old while she waited in a pen, hemmed in with others younger and older than herself as they waited for the questions. He closed his eyes at the memory of the voices the sailors had put on when reading that bit. "Is there gold in the village, jewels? Where is Lord Beric? Who was working with the Brotherhood?-"The whole thing was utterly disgusting, he had shared wine with Tywin Lannister and broken bread with him while all the time that man had allowed and encouraged- it didn't bare thinking about, if he could he would take his whole family and get away from this cursed, bankrupt, incestuous city. 

He was met at the docks by flags baring the seal of the seven which was unusual, they should have the Baratheon flag but no matter, he had other worries, he immediately went to his mother, a copy of the fateful play under his robes. He thought he would be giving her shocking news that would make her head spin but instead he was greeted by the news that Margeary and Loras had been imprisoned and the Faith of the Seven had absolute power. Later he sat in the box carriage with his Mother who filled him in on what he had missed as they were being carried around the city by deaf servants, it was the best way to ensure that they were not overheard.

"So you thought Cersei Lannister had sent you to Iron Bank to negotiate? You-" there was a hint of contempt in the way she spoke.

Mace flustered a while before saying "As Master of Coin it seemed only natural-" he began to say before she spoke over him.

"Cersei Lannister sent you to Braavos to keep you out of the way and she sent the bloody King's Guard to make certain you stayed there." Olenna was hurting in a way she never thought she could, her poor boy, had she not been there then she would doubt if he was actually her son but though she knew he was simple minded at times he was her son all the same. The box moved on as she fought back the tears she refused to shed. "So out of her way you stayed; eating, drinking, singing- while your own children were being rounded up by-" He could not let her say that without intervening.

"That is an entirely unfair accusation, I did not even stay the night in that dangerous city of mad men." He interrupted, she considered his sunken eyes and embroidered jacket; though it had been made for him it was hanging off him a bit to show the strain he had been under during his journey home and the affects the rationing onboard the ship had had on his ample fat supplies.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there was no singing." She answered in a slightly softer voice. He did not insult her intelligence by trying and instead looked shamed lay at his feet.

"Mother I have seen men die, I've seen men being killed in duels and in war but what happened in Braavos- they didn't care about me or any of the guards I had with me, they didn't kill as a group they just patiently, methodically took turns in....in shredding him to pieces. It scared me, it scared me more than anything I have ever witnessed, I was nothing to them, absolutely nothing. All they cared about was that man; Syrio Forel; they each spoke his name like it was a prayer, no one not even Cersei when her son and her Father were killed by Tyrion has ever shown such.." he stared out of the window as he tried to find the word devotion? Zealousness? "Peace in another man's suffering." Olenna sat back and considered him as she thumbed the manuscript on her lap, he had come straight to her when his ship had docked and sent the King's Guard to explain themselves to Cersei.

"Well it won't happen again, Kevan Lannister has asked me to attend the small council meeting." There was a small amount of pride in her voice, Tywin had raised a thoroughly stupid daughter but he had left his intelligent brother in a position of power, thank the Gods for small mercies and she knew there was little love lost between the two.

"He has?" Mace asked as his face lit up.

"He has." She said with a note of pride that was reflected in Mace's own smile.

"So does this mean you will be Master of Coin?" Mace asked with a note of hope in his voice, her poor boy; he really wasn't cut out for all of this.

"It means I am Mistress of getting my grandchildren out of bloody prison." She replied definitavely.

"We want the same thing." Mace spoke like a lost little boy seeking his mother's guidance. "I worry about them every day and every night."

Her tone softened as she answered his unspoken plea to fix this and make it better. "We will get them out and then we will leave this cursed place and leave the sparrows and the Lannisters to rip each other to pieces." As the box carriage was carried along the streets she looked down at the play and began to read, for a fantastical example of propaganda driven fluff it was actually well written, from what she could remember of the Shakespearean tragedies this was definitely written by someone who had studied them.

 

 

In King's Landing the newly appointed HighSparrow considered the sinner in front of him. When he openned his little soup kitchen and started tending the poor of King's Landing he had found an alarming number of people who now starved and hungered in the city had not started as beggars in need of spiritual saving; the majority had been people who had worked their whole lives; had had farms, homes, families and trades until the war had ravaged the land. He had performed the last rights on so many young girls, so many it had broken his heart, that had been raped by Lannister soldiers, sell swords and others. Some of them, too many of them, had been forced to prostitute themselves for crusts of bread or warm beds for the night, fathers and mothers had sold these girls not for profit but for survival in the form of the simplest things like a loaf of bread. Good people who had been denied enough meals had resorted to the most desperate of trades. It broke his heart to deliver their babies into this harsh cruel world, their fathers could be any of a number of men they lay with every night, not because they were bad girls as the church had often taught but because hunger and desperation drive many to desperate acts. He tried not to be angry because anger was a wasted emotion and served no purpose when one served the seven but it was hard. Queen Cersei had approached him a few weeks ago; brave of her really to walk among the people whose lives she had ruined with her depravity and lustfulness. She thought his politeness to her meant that she had an ally in him, she thought that she was manipulating and controlling him as she had controlled so many men with her golden hair and beautiful smiles. She thought she could use him to control her good daughter and her family. He tried not to stare at her expensive jewels and silks and treat her with the contempt she deserved. He refrained from telling her that he had been in the crowd that day, the day her beloved son had publically whipped and beaten one of the most courageous and devout young women he had ever had the honour of seeing.

He himself though he advised people not to be angry and not to retaliate had been among those who sang the song In the nights that followed. They had sung the song night after night with people who were unarmed and went to the palace to sing for the young girl recuperating from her ordeal; the Maiden incarnate many called her and he agreed. He had been at the gates of the palace and seen the boy king, her golden son, fire crossbows into the crowd of people singing the hymn, those dark nights had become known as The Hymn Riots. They had not been planned by any one person but they had been an inevitable result of all that the forgotten of the city had suffered. Hunger causes a sort of madness but the mad are not necessarily stupid. The young King ordered the immediate death of anyone heard singing the mother's hymn, it was now outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms because the boy could not bare to hear it anymore. A foolish proclamation if ever there was one, the people who lived in King's Landing were desperate and going to war again and they were angry, anger alone was not enough of a reason but when the gold cloaks in their shiney armour had started patrolling the streets and raiding homes for a lullaby then true madness began to grip the citizens. In a strange sort of way Sansa Stark had avenged her Father's men by instigating the deaths of what was quite possibly all of the gold cloaks who participated in his arrest, though he seriously doubted she had premeditated such a reaction that day. They had set up barricades around the city, they had lured and trapped the guards and afterwards their dead bodies were left around the palace as a warning; 'we may not be an army but we are many and you are few'.

It went on like that for months, servants inside the castle reported that Lady Sansa was still recovering but occasionally Joffrey would summon her to the throne room and have her beaten for her brother's crimes while her betrothed pointed the same crossbow he used to kill peasants at her. All the nobles did nothing. They watched and the people of King's Landing killed night after night the only nobles they could get their hands on. It was a wretched time where a sort of madness took hold of everyone in the capital, Stannis was not loved before but when he set up a block around King's Landing that prevented food and supplies from reaching them then he was truly hated; another highborn King who cared not a bit for the sufferings of his alleged people. King's Landing was sick of Kings. 

The imp had come then and tried to alleviate things, he stopped the patrols that were being ambushed and set up a paid guard from men inside the city, not men in shiney armour that made themselves targets. He accepted that some fights like the fight for the streets simply weren't worth fighting, not with a royal fleet knocking at the door and so many claimants to the throne. For a time it seemed that the Hymn Riots were over but the worst was yet to come. The fools brought Lady Sansa to the harbour to watch Princess Myrcella sail for Dorne, she looked pale and drawn, the dress she wore was ill fitting and adorned in Lannister colors and she obviously found it difficult to walk after her last beating for some battle her Kingly brother had won (another King who only cared for his own interests it seemed). He had gone to the harbour that day to see her, he very much doubted that she would notice him or understand the kind look which he tried to convey to her but he had to try. Somewhere in the crowd someone started singing, his voice joined their's; after all it was a hymn nearly as old as the Faith of the Seven itself, they had every right to sing it No matter what some jumped up little snot said. What ensued would haunt him forever, they had tried to show her their support and instead the young King had instigated a riot with his blasphemous shouting and demands for their deaths, he tried to keep an eye on her but lost her in the throng, many women were raped and the High Septon was literally torn to pieces and the poor girl instead of being rescued from her tormentors was returned to them and now lived in more fear of the public who had only meant to help her, had he known she was going to be at the docks that day he would have had a plan ready for her escape but as it was he had been unprepared and the rescue attempt had been as much of a rape attempt as anything.

Now Margeary Tyrell sat in a cell wearing a plain linen dress and her hair was simply brushed and unadorned, her brother sat by her side as the two enjoyed a simple broth, the same broth he fed the poor as he sat and told them the entirety of what had happened that day and the subsequent days and they listened with rapt attention.

"-So you see Queen Margeary; Cersei Lannister is dangerous as well as mad, it would not do to leave you in the Keep with her while she is out for your blood, I could not protect Sansa Stark from those monsters but I can protect you, I see from your eyes that you think this an odd way to protect a queen, a queen should not be in fear of her mother in law or her power but I lived through one innocent highborn maid being tortured in that Keep and was helpless outside the walls as they did unspeakable things to her, her own Septa's head was put on a spike and she along with the rest of the city were forced to look upon it, it still wore the habit that all Septa's wear and no one did anything, all those highborn nobles stood back and watched as she was stripped and beaten by the King's guard while Joffrey pointed a crossbow at her and boasted about how many of the revolting peasants he had killed with that same bow. 

"Your Father is gone and your Grandmother also, you were as unprotected as Lady Sansa was but you and your brother are safe here, safe because Cersei believes you are being made to suffer as she wishes, when your Father and his men return to the capital then there shall be a reckoning and she will-she must be held accountable for her crimes." Queen Margeary nibbled at the chicken broth she had been given and nodded in agreement with the HighSparrow. What choice had she? They had treated her very well after the initial arrest and only seemed content to preach to her about the great works of the Seven and the great sufferings of Lady Sansa. She had not realised Cersei would be so vindictive or so stupid as to give this little man and his church such power but now that Cersei had shown her true hand Margeary felt free to show her's and they would truly make that whore pay.

*******

Mace arrived back in King's Landing having lost a few pounds and gained a few grey hairs. They had left Braavos in such haste that the ship's food stores had not been properly replenished so it had been two weeks of careful rationing. The captain had advised him not to be seen to be eating more than his fair share as mutinies had been known to happen when food was not plentiful and some were seen as getting more than others. Mace had agreed without argument, he thought people capable of anything now after all he had witnessed. He just wanted to go home, not King's Landing but home to HighGarden, they never should have gotten involved in this bloody war or with that cursed family, Baratheon or Lannister they were all cursed, he had read the play on the ship, they all had, he'd heard some of the literate sailors reading it aloud to those who could not read and had no shame in admitting there had been tears in his eyes at some of the passages in it. Of course he had heard about the atrocities committed at Harrenhall but to hear what sounded like a first hand account of the 'Tickler' and his friends, if the tale was true then Arya Stark had been ten years old while she waited in a pen, hemmed in with others younger and older than herself as they waited for the questions. He closed his eyes at the memory of the voices the sailors had put on when reading that bit. "Is there gold in the village, jewels? Where is Lord Beric? Who was working with the Brotherhood?-"The whole thing was utterly disgusting, he had shared wine with Tywin Lannister and broken bread with him while all the time that man had allowed and encouraged- it didn't bare thinking about, if he could he would take his whole family and get away from this cursed, bankrupt, incestuous city. 

He was met at the docks by flags baring the seal of the seven which was unusual, they should have the Baratheon flag but no matter, he had other worries, he immediately went to his mother, a copy of the fateful play under his robes. He thought he would be giving her shocking news that would make her head spin but instead he was greeted by the news that Margeary and Loras had been imprisoned and the Faith of the Seven had absolute power. Later he sat in the box carriage with his Mother who filled him in on what he had missed as they were being carried around the city by deaf servants, it was the best way to ensure that they were not overheard.

"So you thought Cersei Lannister had sent you to Iron Bank to negotiate? You-" there was a hint of contempt in the way she spoke.

Mace flustered a while before saying "As Master of Coin it seemed only natural-" he began to say before she spoke over him.

"Cersei Lannister sent you to Braavos to keep you out of the way and she sent the bloody King's Guard to make certain you stayed there." Olenna was hurting in a way she never thought she could, her poor boy, had she not been there then she would doubt if he was actually her son but though she knew he was simple minded at times he was her son all the same. The box moved on as she fought back the tears she refused to shed. "So out of her way you stayed; eating, drinking, singing- while your own children were being rounded up by-" He could not let her say that without intervening.

"That is an entirely unfair accusation, I did not even stay the night in that dangerous city of mad men." He interrupted, she considered his sunken eyes and embroidered jacket; though it had been made for him it was hanging off him a bit to show the strain he had been under during his journey home and the affects the rationing onboard the ship had had on his ample fat supplies.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there was no singing." She answered in a slightly softer voice. He did not insult her intelligence by trying and instead looked shamed lay at his feet.

"Mother I have seen men die, I've seen men being killed in duels and in war but what happened in Braavos- they didn't care about me or any of the guards I had with me, they didn't kill as a group they just patiently, methodically took turns in....in shredding him to pieces. It scared me, it scared me more than anything I have ever witnessed, I was nothing to them, absolutely nothing. All they cared about was that man; Syrio Forel; they each spoke his name like it was a prayer, no one not even Cersei when her son and her Father were killed by Tyrion has ever shown such.." he stared out of the window as he tried to find the word devotion? Zealousness? "Peace in another man's suffering." Olenna sat back and considered him as she thumbed the manuscript on her lap, he had come straight to her when his ship had docked and sent the King's Guard to explain themselves to Cersei.

"Well it won't happen again, Kevan Lannister has asked me to attend the small council meeting." There was a small amount of pride in her voice, Tywin had raised a thoroughly stupid daughter but he had left his intelligent brother in a position of power, thank the Gods for small mercies and she knew there was little love lost between the two.

"He has?" Mace asked as his face lit up.

"He has." She said with a note of pride that was reflected in Mace's own smile.

"So does this mean you will be Master of Coin?" Mace asked with a note of hope in his voice, her poor boy; he really wasn't cut out for all of this.

"It means I am Mistress of getting my grandchildren out of bloody prison." She replied definitavely.

"We want the same thing." Mace spoke like a lost little boy seeking his mother's guidance. "I worry about them every day and every night."

Her tone softened as she answered his unspoken plea to fix this and make it better. "We will get them out and then we will leave this cursed place and leave the sparrows and the Lannisters to rip each other to pieces." As the box carriage was carried along the streets she looked down at the play and began to read, for a fantastical example of propaganda driven fluff it was actually well written, from what she could remember of the Shakespearean tragedies this was definitely written by someone who had studied them.

 

 

In King's Landing the newly appointed HighSparrow considered the sinner in front of him. When he openned his little soup kitchen and started tending the poor of King's Landing he had found an alarming number of people who now starved and hungered in the city had not started as beggars in need of spiritual saving; the majority had been people who had worked their whole lives; had had farms, homes, families and trades until the war had ravaged the land. He had performed the last rights on so many young girls, so many it had broken his heart, that had been raped by Lannister soldiers, sell swords and others. Some of them, too many of them, had been forced to prostitute themselves for crusts of bread or warm beds for the night, fathers and mothers had sold these girls not for profit but for survival in the form of the simplest things like a loaf of bread. Good people who had been denied enough meals had resorted to the most desperate of trades. It broke his heart to deliver their babies into this harsh cruel world, their fathers could be any of a number of men they lay with every night, not because they were bad girls as the church had often taught but because hunger and desperation drive many to desperate acts. He tried not to be angry because anger was a wasted emotion and served no purpose when one served the seven but it was hard. Queen Cersei had approached him a few weeks ago; brave of her really to walk among the people whose lives she had ruined with her depravity and lustfulness. She thought his politeness to her meant that she had an ally in him, she thought that she was manipulating and controlling him as she had controlled so many men with her golden hair and beautiful smiles. She thought she could use him to control her good daughter and her family. He tried not to stare at her expensive jewels and silks and treat her with the contempt she deserved. He refrained from telling her that he had been in the crowd that day, the day her beloved son had publically whipped and beaten one of the most courageous and devout young women he had ever had the honour of seeing.

He himself though he advised people not to be angry and not to retaliate had been among those who sang the song In the nights that followed. They had sung the song night after night with people who were unarmed and went to the palace to sing for the young girl recuperating from her ordeal; the Maiden incarnate many called her and he agreed. He had been at the gates of the palace and seen the boy king, her golden son, fire crossbows into the crowd of people singing the hymn, those dark nights had become known as The Hymn Riots. They had not been planned by any one person but they had been an inevitable result of all that the forgotten of the city had suffered. Hunger causes a sort of madness but the mad are not necessarily stupid. The young King ordered the immediate death of anyone heard singing the mother's hymn, it was now outlawed in the Seven Kingdoms because the boy could not bare to hear it anymore. A foolish proclamation if ever there was one, the people who lived in King's Landing were desperate and going to war again and they were angry, anger alone was not enough of a reason but when the gold cloaks in their shiney armour had started patrolling the streets and raiding homes for a lullaby then true madness began to grip the citizens. In a strange sort of way Sansa Stark had avenged her Father's men by instigating the deaths of what was quite possibly all of the gold cloaks who participated in his arrest, though he seriously doubted she had premeditated such a reaction that day. They had set up barricades around the city, they had lured and trapped the guards and afterwards their dead bodies were left around the palace as a warning; 'we may not be an army but we are many and you are few'.

It went on like that for months, servants inside the castle reported that Lady Sansa was still recovering but occasionally Joffrey would summon her to the throne room and have her beaten for her brother's crimes while her betrothed pointed the same crossbow he used to kill peasants at her. All the nobles did nothing. They watched and the people of King's Landing killed night after night the only nobles they could get their hands on. It was a wretched time where a sort of madness took hold of everyone in the capital, Stannis was not loved before but when he set up a block around King's Landing that prevented food and supplies from reaching them then he was truly hated; another highborn King who cared not a bit for the sufferings of his alleged people. King's Landing was sick of Kings. 

The imp had come then and tried to alleviate things, he stopped the patrols that were being ambushed and set up a paid guard from men inside the city, not men in shiney armour that made themselves targets. He accepted that some fights like the fight for the streets simply weren't worth fighting, not with a royal fleet knocking at the door and so many claimants to the throne. For a time it seemed that the Hymn Riots were over but the worst was yet to come. The fools brought Lady Sansa to the harbour to watch Princess Myrcella sail for Dorne, she looked pale and drawn, the dress she wore was ill fitting and adorned in Lannister colors and she obviously found it difficult to walk after her last beating for some battle her Kingly brother had won (another King who only cared for his own interests it seemed). He had gone to the harbour that day to see her, he very much doubted that she would notice him or understand the kind look which he tried to convey to her but he had to try. Somewhere in the crowd someone started singing, his voice joined their's; after all it was a hymn nearly as old as the Faith of the Seven itself, they had every right to sing it No matter what some jumped up little snot said. What ensued would haunt him forever, they had tried to show her their support and instead the young King had instigated a riot with his blasphemous shouting and demands for their deaths, he tried to keep an eye on her but lost her in the throng, many women were raped and the High Septon was literally torn to pieces and the poor girl instead of being rescued from her tormentors was returned to them and now lived in more fear of the public who had only meant to help her, had he known she was going to be at the docks that day he would have had a plan ready for her escape but as it was he had been unprepared and the rescue attempt had been as much of a rape attempt as anything.

Now Margeary Tyrell sat in a cell wearing a plain linen dress and her hair was simply brushed and unadorned, her brother sat by her side as the two enjoyed a simple broth, the same broth he fed the poor as he sat and told them the entirety of what had happened that day and the subsequent days and they listened with rapt attention.

"-So you see Queen Margeary; Cersei Lannister is dangerous as well as mad, it would not do to leave you in the Keep with her while she is out for your blood, I could not protect Sansa Stark from those monsters but I can protect you, I see from your eyes that you think this an odd way to protect a queen, a queen should not be in fear of her mother in law or her power but I lived through one innocent highborn maid being tortured in that Keep and was helpless outside the walls as they did unspeakable things to her, her own Septa's head was put on a spike and she along with the rest of the city were forced to look upon it, it still wore the habit that all Septa's wear and no one did anything, all those highborn nobles stood back and watched as she was stripped and beaten by the King's guard while Joffrey pointed a crossbow at her and boasted about how many of the revolting peasants he had killed with that same bow. 

"Your Father is gone and your Grandmother also, you were as unprotected as Lady Sansa was but you and your brother are safe here, safe because Cersei believes you are being made to suffer as she wishes, when your Father and his men return to the capital then there shall be a reckoning and she will-she must be held accountable for her crimes." Queen Margeary nibbled at the chicken broth she had been given and nodded in agreement with the HighSparrow. What choice had she? They had treated her very well after the initial arrest and only seemed content to preach to her about the great works of the Seven and the great sufferings of Lady Sansa. She had not realised Cersei would be so vindictive or so stupid as to give this little man and his church such power but now that Cersei had shown her true hand Margeary felt free to show her's and they would truly make that whore pay.

*******

Mace arrived back in King's Landing having lost a few pounds and gained a few grey hairs. They had left Braavos in such haste that the ship's food stores had not been properly replenished so it had been two weeks of careful rationing. The captain had advised him not to be seen to be eating more than his fair share as mutinies had been known to happen when food was not plentiful and some were seen as getting more than others. Mace had agreed without argument, he thought people capable of anything now after all he had witnessed. He just wanted to go home, not King's Landing but home to HighGarden, they never should have gotten involved in this bloody war or with that cursed family, Baratheon or Lannister they were all cursed, he had read the play on the ship, they all had, he'd heard some of the literate sailors reading it aloud to those who could not read and had no shame in admitting there had been tears in his eyes at some of the passages in it. Of course he had heard about the atrocities committed at Harrenhall but to hear what sounded like a first hand account of the 'Tickler' and his friends, if the tale was true then Arya Stark had been ten years old while she waited in a pen, hemmed in with others younger and older than herself as they waited for the questions. He closed his eyes at the memory of the voices the sailors had put on when reading that bit. "Is there gold in the village, jewels? Where is Lord Beric? Who was working with the Brotherhood?-"The whole thing was utterly disgusting, he had shared wine with Tywin Lannister and broken bread with him while all the time that man had allowed and encouraged- it didn't bare thinking about, if he could he would take his whole family and get away from this cursed, bankrupt, incestuous city. 

He was met at the docks by flags baring the seal of the seven which was unusual, they should have the Baratheon flag but no matter, he had other worries, he immediately went to his mother, a copy of the fateful play under his robes. He thought he would be giving her shocking news that would make her head spin but instead he was greeted by the news that Margeary and Loras had been imprisoned and the Faith of the Seven had absolute power. Later he sat in the box carriage with his Mother who filled him in on what he had missed as they were being carried around the city by deaf servants, it was the best way to ensure that they were not overheard.

"So you thought Cersei Lannister had sent you to Iron Bank to negotiate? You-" there was a hint of contempt in the way she spoke.

Mace flustered a while before saying "As Master of Coin it seemed only natural-" he began to say before she spoke over him.

"Cersei Lannister sent you to Braavos to keep you out of the way and she sent the bloody King's Guard to make certain you stayed there." Olenna was hurting in a way she never thought she could, her poor boy, had she not been there then she would doubt if he was actually her son but though she knew he was simple minded at times he was her son all the same. The box moved on as she fought back the tears she refused to shed. "So out of her way you stayed; eating, drinking, singing- while your own children were being rounded up by-" He could not let her say that without intervening.

"That is an entirely unfair accusation, I did not even stay the night in that dangerous city of mad men." He interrupted, she considered his sunken eyes and embroidered jacket; though it had been made for him it was hanging off him a bit to show the strain he had been under during his journey home and the affects the rationing onboard the ship had had on his ample fat supplies.

"Look me in the eye and tell me there was no singing." She answered in a slightly softer voice. He did not insult her intelligence by trying and instead looked shamed lay at his feet.

"Mother I have seen men die, I've seen men being killed in duels and in war but what happened in Braavos- they didn't care about me or any of the guards I had with me, they didn't kill as a group they just patiently, methodically took turns in....in shredding him to pieces. It scared me, it scared me more than anything I have ever witnessed, I was nothing to them, absolutely nothing. All they cared about was that man; Syrio Forel; they each spoke his name like it was a prayer, no one not even Cersei when her son and her Father were killed by Tyrion has ever shown such.." he stared out of the window as he tried to find the word devotion? Zealousness? "Peace in another man's suffering." Olenna sat back and considered him as she thumbed the manuscript on her lap, he had come straight to her when his ship had docked and sent the King's Guard to explain themselves to Cersei.

"Well it won't happen again, Kevan Lannister has asked me to attend the small council meeting." There was a small amount of pride in her voice, Tywin had raised a thoroughly stupid daughter but he had left his intelligent brother in a position of power, thank the Gods for small mercies and she knew there was little love lost between the two.

"He has?" Mace asked as his face lit up.

"He has." She said with a note of pride that was reflected in Mace's own smile.

"So does this mean you will be Master of Coin?" Mace asked with a note of hope in his voice, her poor boy; he really wasn't cut out for all of this.

"It means I am Mistress of getting my grandchildren out of bloody prison." She replied definitavely.

"We want the same thing." Mace spoke like a lost little boy seeking his mother's guidance. "I worry about them every day and every night."

Her tone softened as she answered his unspoken plea to fix this and make it better. "We will get them out and then we will leave this cursed place and leave the sparrows and the Lannisters to rip each other to pieces." As the box carriage was carried along the streets she looked down at the play and began to read, for a fantastical example of propaganda driven fluff it was actually well written, from what she could remember of the Shakespearean tragedies this was definitely written by someone who had studied them.


	6. The House Decides

It had been three days, for three days the men and women of the House had debated the fate of the two Stark girls. The main problem some of them had was the fact that although Sansa had not wielded the blade she had caused the death; in other words had stolen a life from the Many Faced God which was a strangely big taboo in a religious order of assassins. While others had argued for her and said that she could have no control over what others may do just because she had written a play and besides no one who had actually wielded a blade that day had been in any way affiliated with the House so could she be punished for free individuals acting of their own free will? The arguments went on and on, if the pen was mightier than the sword then she had wielded it with a deadly accuracy, if the people were responsible for their own actions and opinions regardless of the influence of popular culture then she had had no reprehensible part in the killing. The debates went on and on, the fact that Trant had been asked at the start if he had killed Syrio Forel, that the crowd had not just taken Sansa's word for it seemed to be working in her favour but the Waif and a few others still held that Sansa had been in the wrong. 

Sansa gave up arguing, they would come to their own conclusions no matter what she said so she went about her tasks in the House as usual; scrubbing floors, speaking softly to people who seeked the gift, washing their bodies and hair afterwards. It was labour intensive, mind numbing work and she and Arya worked side by side at it as their callused, soap hardened hands washed the dead, the floors and statues alike. It was strange to think that as highborn Ladies in a castle they had quarreled and bickered but as apprentice assassins in a strange religious order they were close and supportive of one another. She often wondered what the young family; Mother, Father, sons and daughters gathered in front of the great castle of Winterfell waiting with hope and excitement for the King to arrive would think if they could see these the two girls now and know the path their lives had taken then she dispelled those thoughts because she was no one and she found a perverse sort of comfort in that fact.

Sansa and Arya had crossed the Narrow Sea together, they spoke the words Valor Morghulis together, they waited outside the huge closed doors together. They only had one coin but had decided that whatever happened they would not be separated again. They waited and waited as they repeated The List aloud together for a whole day and night in the pouring rain , shut out of the building and hoping that Jaqun H'ghar or whatever he was called would remember Arya and speak up for Sansa. Finally they had left and gone to the city in search of food but were both still very far from giving up and then Sansa had met her first Faceless Man. They had not been overly keen to admit Sansa as well as Arya but their determination to stay together and to learn how to change faces and serve the Many Faced God had convinced the acolytes. Though until recently the two sisters had not been sure that there were that many acolytes, their ability to change faces and the fact that you seldom saw more than three or four at a time meant that they hadn't been sure how many people there were actually affiliated with the House in Braavos. Then Meryn Trant had been killed and Hundreds of them had appeared in the Great Hall. 

The two northern girls looked different now; the puppy fat all but gone from their cheeks to reveal sharpened cheekbones, there was also a hardness to their eyes that only certain experiences could give. Arya was alright as brown hair was such a common feature and quite unremarkable but Sansa regularly had to dye her hair a dark muddy brown so she would fit in to the city more and be able to move around as freely as the oyster seller or the beggar. One stage of their training had involved drinking a potion that made them blind and they had begged for food at opposite ends of the city from each other for days and huddled in doorways for shelter from the elements. The whole time Sansa had been in darkness she had worried about Arya and why she hadn't come to help her and the whole time Arya was in darkness she had wondered the same, they returned and trained harder than ever thus proving to everyone and themselves that they could achieve things on their own even if they preferred to always be together. 

When they had first arrived Sansa had been in a sort of trance unable to forget what had happened and still woke up crying for the man she had lost; he wasn't her man, it hadn't been a romance. He had been as attentive to Arya as he had been to her. That's what had hurt so much she had finally admitted to the Waif as she was forced to recall every event of her previous life. Even though she didn't believe in the songs any more and had replaced them in her heart with the tragedies which seemed to more accurately reflect the true nature of the world she was and feared she always would be a hopeless romantic. When Sandor had come to her before Battle of the Blackwater and planned her escape she had thought even though he was far too old for her and her brother would kill him if he ever touched her that it was because he was a bit in love with her. After the hymn riots when Princess Myrcella had sailed to Dorne he had gone into the crowd cutting through people and carried her back to the Keep and as Joffrey told him off for abandoning his post and bothering to save her Sansa had fallen a little bit more in love with him though she hadn't labeled her feelings at the time that was what she had uncovered in these years without him. It had been so hard after she had been whipped as she lay on her stomach every day trying not to move for fear of the welts and cuts on her back causing her more pain. She just lay there as her muscles turned to jelly and her back itched as it healed. The pain was bad but the itch was maddening and any attempt to reach for it or soothe it on her part had resulted in a fresh wave of agony. The first night he had come into her room she had been afraid, what fresh hell could she be made to endure? How could she fight him off if she could barely move? Then he had pulled a seat up next to her bed and sat down, the candle placed next to him so his scars were in shadow and he opened the little book and began to read. He had a rough voice and was unused to reading aloud but it was a soothing, deep and rolling voice. She depended less on the milk of the poppy the creepy Maester Pycelle prescribed for her after that as every night without fail he came and he read to her. 

Can you be friends with someone if the two of you never have an actual conversation? Can you be close to someone if they never speak to you except to say the words of a long dead play wright? For her the answer was yes but she never knew what the answer was for him. Finally he came to her and spoke words of his own; a plan that had her get out of her room and hide in a passage beneath the Keep days before the battle with Stannis started. She waited down there in the dark with only the dead bard for company; no light as it was too dangerous but the memory of his stories and the little volume that she clutched close to her breast. Often the cats that Arya had chased came to visit her and she took great comfort from playing with them. Kittens ask so little of a person they just sit; tiny and fragile on your lap or in the palm of your hand and then you try to put them back on the cold hard floor where you first found them only to discover their little paws have claws and they grip onto your dress so tight that you feel cruel for having ever shown them kindness only to abandon them. Down in the dark she waited as chaos reigned the court above, later he would tell her of those days; of how Joffrey threatened to have all of her Ladies' maids killed for treason and aiding and abetting a traitor and how Tyrion had spoken out against his madness thus protecting her dear Shea. She would have told Shea of her strange relationship with Sandor and the plan but Shea herself had told her not to trust her and she knew that under torture everyone always talks so she stayed silent. 

High above the dark corridors where she hid Joffrey held court where he shouted and fumed, everyone who had the slightest connection to her or the Riverlands, Arryn, The North and The Vale were questioned. Sandor told her they tried to get him to pay attention to the defense plans for Stannis's attack but all he was interested in was finding her, he tortured many people and put them to the question in his futile search for her. They all knew someone must have spirited her away from the Keep and sent men to search the roads and harbours endlessly , unaware that she was carefully hidden away, Sandor had hoped to be sent out on one of these hunts and he was going to smuggle her out as his squire then but he had been kept close in preparation for the battle so they changed their plan to suit the new circumstances. In the chaos of the fighting during the Battle of the Blackwater when the sky itself burned a sickly green Sandor fought as he had never fought before, the plan had been to leave together in the chaos that would follow as King's Landing fell but they had no way of knowing it wouldn't fall and the great military tactician that Stannis was would fail in the face of Tyrion's trickery with wildfire and Tywin's timely arrival. It made no difference, there was a price on Sandor Clegane's head for desertion but no one suspected he travelled with her so their journey was less eventful than it would have otherwise been and the price on his head far less.

As they travelled they rarely talked and he taught her how to draw and use her knife efficiently, it was only later that she would understand how afraid for her he must have been, he had been Joffrey's sworn shield since childhood but it had always been in a castle full of other guards and with regular meals and breaks. Now he protected her full time, alone and when food was at its most scarce. When they met the Brotherhood she tried to run, she tried to fight but they caught them anyway, their hunting dogs were no match for her tired horse. In the cave she daren't speak out and alert them all to the fact that she was a girl, her hair was nearly shaved off and she had a purple stain on her face that looked like a black eye but was actually dye she regularly put on. She was too feminine to pass for a boy without something to make her face look tougher so it was quite an ingenious disguise, she thought. As Arya shouted out and accused him of being Joffrey's personal murderer Sansa had to bite her tongue and hang back as she desperately pleaded with her eyes for him to let her speak but he had told her not to and she had sworn to always obey. As they had been dragged along with bags over their heads to this strange cave she had been told by him to stay mute and not attract unwanted attention. She wanted to yell out when she saw him fight Beric and his terrible burning sword and had run to him when it was over to tend his burns; all the time staying mute and keeping her head down even though many of them had already guessed that she was no boy.

Arya didn't recognize her at all but just called insults after them as they were allowed to leave, minus their gold and with that ridiculous promissory note. Later Arya would steam and rage at her for leaving her with the bandits to go off with Sandor, the way Arya saw it she should have stayed with her family no matter what, eventually, after days of hunting game and cuddling close to Sansa under their small portable tarpaulin shelter Arya admitted that maybe Sansa had done right; better to be with the Hound you know and trust rather than the Brotherhood you didn't know who were quite frankly weird with all their talk of their fire god. Then the Red Wedding... But she wouldn't think of that, one of the many benefits of being faceless was that you were no one and no one had no past. 

On the fourth day of waiting in The House a man came to buy a name; he was rotund and showed the signs of being a heavy drinker, Sansa scrubbed the floor at his feet as the acolyte attended him and the memory came to her unbidden; "it's true what a man sews on his name day he reaps all the year." Curious, she followed the man, would he recognize her in her rough spun dress and short dark hair? It had grown a bit since Sandor had cut it close to the scalp but was still not past her shoulder and besides there was a hardness to her now, bruises from her training and a hollowness to her eyes and cheeks. Would he recognise the girl who saved his life?

"I understand you kill people for a price? How much do you charge? I need to hire an assassin." He was telling the faceless brother who wore Jaqun's face but could have been anyone.

"It depends on the name the man wants to buy, some names are more expensive than others, what name does the man wish to buy?"

"Oh no no, there's no man just me, I want to hire an assassin not a name. How much to kill someone is what I want to know? " Sansa rolled her eyes; obviously she had been generous in having him made a fool if this was a display of his intelligence.

"That is what a man means, what name does a man wish to buy?" Dontos stared into Jaquen's eyes for a moment with a perplexed expression before answering.

"I think I best talk to someone who speaks the common tongue." He said loudly and clearly as if that made up for his ignorance of the language and the acolyte walked away to get someone, if he hadn't been trained not to show emotion then he might have had an annoyed frown on his face. The girl who used to be Sansa continued to scrub the floor as the knight turned fool wandered around the House; he wore expensive boots and an expensive cloak, she didn't know much about the small House he had come from but she remembered at Joffrey's tourney his armour had been tarnished and dented, he had had no squire and his clothes were old. Although she didn't know how much a court fool got paid she was pretty sure it was not enough to afford these new garments. She continued her scrubbing and waited for someone else to attend the fool and soon out of the shadows came The Waif.

"My colleague tells me you wish to purchase someone's name? In other words to purchase our services in the killing of someone?" She explained as if to a little boy.

"Yes but I want to make it clear it is I purchasing the name, no one else, the other man kept talking about a man, there is no man just me." Sansa didn't need all of her training in the house to see a lie when it was told before her; so he was the go between for someone who wanted to purchase a name, well that explained his fancy clothes. She wondered who would be desperate enough or stupid enough to employ a drunk oaf like Dontas?

"I'm sure you are, can you tell me the name of the man or woman you want killed?" There was a slight air of superiority that was always present when the Waif spoke so Sansa was pretty sure it was the same one who had taught her the lying game and therefore was resisting the urge to slap the silly little man for his obvious lies as Sheba often slapped Sansa when she had lied badly. Sansa had always been a kind hearted girl, snobbish but kind hearted and felt a little sorry for the little man who had once made bold proclamations to her of how he could rescue her from the Lannisters and had powerful friends, looking at him now she was glad she had not taken him up on his offer, her life was exactly as she could have wanted it to be given all the terrible things that had happened she realized and was quite amazed at the epiphany but then remembered herself and continued her scrubbing. 

"It is a man I believe to be living somewhere in the city, he has done terrible things and defiled an innocent girl, worse he has written a pack of lies about her abduction and rape and proclaimed himself the hero of that poor innocent girl's life. I believe he's somewhere in Braavos and probably using an alias and magic to hide himself but his name was, is Sandor Clegane." The Waif had heard that name many times from both sisters during the lying game; his name stirred up a confused storm of emotions in both of them but especially Sansa. She had thought he was in love with her, why else had he gone to all that trouble to protect her and take her back to her family, he was rough around the edges yes but she thought sitting and brooding in silence for hours was just what he liked to do. Her Father had often been the same and gone off to the quiet of The Godswood when the trials and tribulations of being Lord of Winterfell and of the busy household were too much for him. She had learnt to appreciate the careful way he would teach her to catch rabbits with the bare minimum of words and the absence of praise if she did it right he would just give her a nod and perhaps say 'that'll do', he was like no other man she had ever known with all their compliments and praise which in the South had turned out to be hollow and meaningless, instead he was honest; plane and simple and it was a great comfort to her after all the empty lies of court. Then Arya had arrived and he had been just as protective, just as considerate and just as silent except for when the two argued; which was often and then you couldn't get them to be quiet. She thought he had loved her but he never so much as kissed her during the entire time they travelled together and her regret was outweighed only by her grief. She was too much of a lady, too afraid of doing it wrong, if she had known how little time they had left with each other she would have made the first move but at heart she was and always would be a romantic and like a fool, like one of the silly pathetic girls in the songs she had waited for him to kiss her and he never did.

"The fact that the man may be using a magical disguise does present a problem, that will have to be reflected in the price." The Waif replied carefully so as not to give anything away. she really was a master at lying, novices should have been made to come and watch this performance purely for the educational value.

"Yes I can pay you GD5,000 now and GD5,000 after the job is done but it must be soon, he is a slanderous wretch and has caused many of the great houses of Westeros problems, if you support me now I can promise you more work in the future." And he looked around the House with a critical eye, "Maybe you could even afford some better decoration and statues." Pride is something that runs deep in Braavos, its' citizens pulled themselves out of the slave pits of old Valeria and created some of the most long lasting and prestigious businesses and governmental systems such as the House of Black and White and The Iron Bank. Both of these fine institutions and the other financial institutions ran on the basis of guild membership; you earned your place through your own hard work and integrity; you could be born in the gutter but grow to own a mance and sleep in silk sheets. Pride was the backbone of the city and was reflected in the ostentatious and colorful clothing worn by many of its inhabitants including the water dancers that the city was famous for but that did not mean that the choice of The House of Black and White not to adorn every statue and tile in expensive gold and colorful mosaics was a sign that they were not proud or a sign that they were poor. The Waif, where ever she had originally come from was now Braavosi in her heart and Sansa could see a few tell tale signs of murderous rage brewing inside of her but only because she had seen the same rage in the waif on other occasions to a stranger like Dontas it merely looked like she was smiling.

"Are you sure that this man is alive? I was made to believe there was a high price on his head in Westeros and that he had been ravaging the Saltplanes with a band of miscreants and his tell tale Hound's helm." She answered carefully.

"That group was broken up months ago by some aurochs claiming to be a woman, she came to the Vale with proof of the deaths of the band leaders and said none of them had the identifying burns that Sandor Clegane was infamous for." Sansa breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't known she had been holding since she first heard of the horrors of the Saltplanes, everything had been in such confusion that night that she hadn't even noticed the loss of the helm until afterwards and she had thought it one of the cruelest twists of fate that a man who cut through crowds of rapers to save a young girl from being raped should be so slandered upon his death by such a despicable untruth. However Sansa was not foolish enough to only listen to the part of the talk that related to Sandor; he had said 'came to the Vale' so Dontas had been in the Vale and now he was trying to buy a name; curiouser and curiouser.

"Well I shall have to consult my brethren and find you a satisfactory price if we choose to take the contract, after all in order to pay for a man's death we must first find him alive and that could take years."

"Yes I was hoping to talk to a man and not a woman but I suppose your grasp of the common tongue is better than the rest of their's, I'll come back in say an hour and talk to the boss then?" In Westeros it was uncommon for women to hold positions of power outside of their husbands holdfasts or homes, many found it a culture shock when they crossed the narrow Sea and first saw the women of power and prestige in Braavos as anyone could have told Dontas if he had asked but the man was clearly made obnoxious by his new clothes and feeling of self worth and didn't realise he was talking to one of the most deadly women in the world. He left shortly after and the Waif retreated to the back room where the debate was still going on as Sansa followed.

She had never seen so many faceless men in one place, many she recognized from professions in the city and had not known were Faceless at all, The Waif gave them a brief summary of the conversation she had just had and took a seat as Sansa stood against the wall and waited to be asked to talk; in truth she was dreading it as it was easier to put pen to paper about scenes she had been writing all day in her head than it was to come up with a rational, unemotional argument on the spot.

"Yet again we find ourselves being dragged into politics by your words Sansa Stark." The Handsome Man said with a slight sneer. It had all seemed so simple when she had put pen to paper by candlelight in her cell at night, how had it come to this? She did her best to school her face into a mask of indifference and stepped forward, her voice was steady as she spoke.

"I wrote the truth, although we play the lying game frequently here and hone our lying skills that we may better serve the Many Faced God I have never heard any rule that expressly forbade the truth or denounced the use of it." She decided to keep her answers as short and to the point as possible as she was dealing with master manipulators and debaters here.

"Do you know why this man is here of all places?" The Bearded Man asked.

"I believe copies of the play have made their way to the Vale and Lord Petyr Baelish has been named Lord Protector of it until Lord Robin Arryn comes of age; most likely he has read the less than flattering accounts of his dealings in King's landing and this is his feeble attempt to save face, by putting it about that Sansa Stark is a helpless child at the mercy of a vicious and published writer then he is saving face to the world and thus protecting his interests. The play was first performed here in Braavos so naturally it is the first place any one would look for the writers." They were all staring at her with unreadable expressions and she knew she had to say it now or it would never be done. "My play had the unintended side affect of inspiring people who had known Syrio Forel to seek vengeance, I barely put any thought into that scene when I wrote it, I only knew that the man had warned my little sister to run when she otherwise would have gone willingly into Lannister custody and imprisonment and therefore I thought Syrio Forel deserved a proper death scene, I had no idea the passion and pride that it would stir up in so many people but I won't insult The House's intelligence by claiming to be sorry for that man's death or the manor in which it occurred. The last scene I wrote was of Sandor Clegane debating with the two Stark girls where in Westeros was safe for them to hide and it talks in detail about Petyr Baelish's part in Eddard Stark's betrayal, death and execution." She was quite proud of herself for keeping her voice steady during this narrative and not showing any excess emotion at speaking those names. "I confess that when a girl wrote that scene she did think that Petyr Baelish may try to get some sort of resolution but a girl has made a full commitment to the Many Faced God; she gave away or sold everything that once belonged to Sansa Stark and works day and night giving all that she earns to the House including the royalties from the play she writes in her spare time and the wages from sewing the costumes for that play." She was guessing that all the brothers present were in on the secret that she wore the face of a girl with a hair lip and went to the theatre to work every day with her own needle for a pittance but a pittance that was immediately added to The House's coffers.

"Sansa Stark has not given away or sold everything; there is still GD30,000 in gold and jewels in The Iron Bank under her name." The Wizened Man proclaimed and Sansa felt her jaw tightening in annoyance.

"That is part of Sansa Stark's dowry and was set up before her birth according to the terms of her parent's marriage contract; the money, and jewels in that account are not accessible to Sansa Stark until she marries or if she dies it reverts to her younger sister Arya Stark and if all the children of Catelyn Tully and Eddard Stark die then the money automatically reverts back to the estate of Tully, it was written by Hoster Tully who was an astute business man and I have tried to explain to the bank that joining a religious institution is considered marrying in to it in Westeros and many girls who join religious institutions give their dowries when they take their vows therefore the money should automatically go to the House but Hoster Tully was a very good business man and put in a codicil preventing such an act. I cannot access the money and nor could the maiden Sansa Stark so of what importance is it?"

"It's of important because the rest of us left everything behind when we joined the order, many of us had already lost a great deal but what we were left with we abandoned for the House. Sansa Stark has not truly given up anything; she clings to her memories of her hardships as a princess like a child to her dolls, Sansa Stark is not faceless; she is not no one." Sansa had never wanted to punch the Waif more than she did at that moment.

"A girl is no one but she uses the skills she learnt in her past life to enhance her new life, would you prefer it if a girl pretended she remembered nothing? If she pretended to be a simpleton unable to thread a needle or read and write. I started sewing at the playhouse because I was told to, I brought back the pittance I earned and gave it to the House; obedient and unquestioning and then I found another way to make money; a more lucrative way and yes I'll admit I have written the soul of Sansa Stark into this play but nobody understood her; they had all built up lies and a sort of religious belief around her as if she was the maiden incarnate and Sandor Clegane was a demon from the darkest pits of the Seven Hells. I tried not to think like Sansa Stark when I came here or act like her or dream like her but you heard me-" she pointed to the Waif and a few other faces in the crowd for confirmation, "night after night I had Sansa Stark's nightmares no matter how hard I tried to be No One. Writing this play has been like taking a mental purgative; I have forced out all the memories, both good and bad and forced them out like sucking out an adders poison, it has given a girl peace that she other wise never would have known and if this council finds that the truth of those words caused that man's death then I will accept the ruling of the House and take my punishment I only ask one thing first." She had them on the hook now and they were all listening attentively to hear what the one thing was. "I ask that a girl be allowed to write the Final Act and see it performed on stage."

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Chapter Notes:

Some of you have questioned my reasoning behind talking so much about Shakespeare in this story. I was going to explain it within the story as I went on but then I realized I'd have to write a full explanatory note to explain why I chose an English playwright to be Sansa and Sandor's favourite author. First of all one of the defining parts of Sansa's character in the books that every one agrees on is that she is naive and ridiculously innocent of the ways of the world, this isn't hard to imagine because she did not have access to television and the Internet like all of us had. We all grew up watching tv dramas that showed how easily rogues could lie and break your heart and we all grew up learning about the importance of friendship and loyalty and seeing how false some friends could be both from personal experience and from watching television and socializing with our peers. Sansa didn't get a chance to socialize properly with her peers growing up and to learn these lessons, had her father fostered other children of highborn families in their homes then she would have had a chance to develop social skills like these but she grew up in a home where her best friend was the daughter of a servant and she never had any interest in a friendship with her sister. I'm not saying she hated Arya; I'm saying they were sisters living in the same house but not necessarily friends, anyone who has siblings can understand this. The problem, I think, is that she was mollycoddled a bit by her Septa and her Mother, by today's standards we would never want a twelve year old to know things about sex, relationships and romances but they were expecting her to be married within a few years of the book and they really left her completely unprepared for the intrigues of court. My pet hate is also how flippant Lady Catelyn was about sending both of her daughter's south with a father who was starting a new and important job and a single Septa not in the prime of her life. Catelyn's own reputation had been tarnished by a boy that she had only seen as a brother but who had taken his crush much further and fought Brandon Stark in a duel for her 'honour'. I really don't think she learnt her lesson from this event or at the very least understood the lesson she should have passed on to her children. There really should have been a heart to heart talk with the girls before they went to warn them of the pitfalls and dangers in what seem like innocent friendships with boys. She admitted to playing kissing games with Petyr when they were children that she thought were innocent but he clearly held onto as being more, years later she's engaged and he causes the sort of commotion that has the whole court talking about her. Wouldn't any mother at the very least sit the girls down and explain a bit about the facts of life to them, including but not limited to how periods work a how easily a reputation could be ruined? During the 'time period' that this book is set in if a young lady even walked alone with a man in a garden she was considered ruined for life.

 

Thus Sansa needed to be educated properly in the ways of the world and quickly; I came up with the idea of Sandor reading to her when I was sick in bed with a cold. I was sitting there watching a movie on my iPad and was totally distracted from my pain and discomfort when it hit me: they had no tv and no music, she would have been given milk of the poppy but the side effects of that are pretty bad so her doses would have had to be small after she was whipped. She would have lain on her stomach for weeks with nothing to think about but the pain as her muscles turned to jelly from disuse, Sandor himself had been through this when he was a kid and recovering from his burns, of all the castle he would have had the most empathy for her but he wouldn't have read her any old trash from the library. He would have read her something useful; something worth while and educational.

The reason I picked Shakespeare was because he writes about such a broad range of human emotions, plots and tragedies. Sansa needed to be rudely awoken from the fantasy she had been taught all her life about happily ever after and while not all of Shakespeare's plays are tragedies and many have happy endings those endings always come at great cost and effort from the protagonists and things as simple as a delayed messenger can mean the difference between Romeo and Juliet living happily ever after and their own untimely deaths. Also there are many plays set in court with kings and lords and power plays that I think Sansa would learn a lot about The Game of Thrones from, the most important to her own personal story being that of Othello and how one person manipulating and deceiving another can result in terrible deeds; I am of course referring to Iago and his similarity to Petyr Baelish. 

I decided that Shakespeare should be from old Valleria because although Valleria seems to be based somewhat on the ideas of The Roman Empire or the Greek Empire GRR Martin never actually specified which or either that it is based on, as far as I know and I didn't want Shakespeare to be from Westeros even though I know the idea of Westeros was loosely based on feudal England I wanted Shakespeare to have universally accepted prestige and to be taught to children for his literary prowess so he needed to be a well established playwright and a recognized literary genius, which meant he had to be a well established playwright and poet, making him old and long dead seemed the easiest way of doing that.

I studied Shakespeare in school and read a few of his plays later in life but the reason I have so much respect for him now is because of a book written by Stephen Clarke called '1000 Years of Annoying the French'. You probably haven't read it, it is about two inches thick but what he says about Shakespeare is pretty mind blowing. When he first started writing he was considered 'a drunken savage' and his plays were considered 'disorderly and unclassical; servants talked to kings like equals and emotions got out of control'. The part that really set Shakespeare apart, that really had everyone in a tizzy was the fact that his actors actually moved and acted instead of just standing still and saying their lines as was the custom. They even acted like real people onstage and laughed and sobbed as the scene demanded. His plays inspired writers like Victor Hugo whose political writing influenced a generation among others writers. Do you understand now why I think Shakespeare should be in Westeros? Without Shakespeare plays as we know them would not exist, drama as we know it would not exist and plays such as the one performed in Izembarro's theatre simply wouldn't have happened with the actors moving around the stage and acting.

Also the actors playing women would have been preadolescent boys not real females, I know GRR Martin hasn't written an authentic historical drama but he has drawn so much from history that I have to at least mention little things like that. Especially since the Faith of The Seven seems to be so similar to Christianity and the power and prejudices it once promoted in Europe. 

I'm a bit annoying when I'm watching historical dramas; I'm the first to complain when all the characters have perfect straight white teeth when they're supposed to be from a pre toothpaste and orthiodantistry era and don't even get me started on how ridiculous the mining scenes are in BBC's Poldark. I hate to break this to you but the charming Ross Poldark would have had kids as young as six working in his mines; not because he was a bad person but because they were small and could get into small spaces easily and there were no child labor laws back then and having a six year old who could bring home a wage meant a lot to mining families but that wouldn't be PC enough for the BBC I suppose. It's a good show though, don't let me put you off.

I hope I answered all of your questions regarding Shakespeare.

 

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End file.
